Tales of Black Britain
by The Founders of Fiction
Summary: Throughout the universe of Black Britain and beyond it, many different interesting people appear throughout them, all with a story to tell. The histories of this universe and others like it will be explored in many different ways, as we travel from person to person, linking the entire story together. Care to take a look?
1. Introduction

**Author's Notes.**

* * *

 **Hello everyone,** it's Oscar Unknown, or The Dark Tipped Snake.  
This new story is going to be, somewhat new. As my college is starting up again, and I won't be able to keep up with constant updates on a regular story, I'm creating this new story.  
What this small series will be, is kind of a few chapters in what I'll refer to as "Episodes." These episodes will be covering characters other than Hadrian at certain parts of their lives. You could see Dumbledore as a stupid fucking young jerk, or Hadrian as Lord Scuro, or other different scenarios. This will give me a means to keep myself busy during off periods, and satisfy you all in some way. I have five episodes planned so far, perhaps with four chapters each.

I don't want to do long branching stories with these, more like 'shorts' in the lives of these characters. What you'll see in these chapters won't be appearing in the main books, so consider these the backstories of certain characters. (?) or perhaps just little views into their lives.

Most of these episodes will be casual, but I'm thinking of making the fifth 'extra' special. The episode thing is actually inspired by the episodic video game series created by Telltale, and Square Enix. I would love to be able to leave off the chapters with a choice similar to ones that you'd find in those type of games, but I'm impatient, and I don't know if I'd get enough responses to make it a fair choice. In the stupid chapter posted by my friend Sean on book 2, he mentioned the episodes thing, but that was before I started thinking of this separate idea for myself.

I've talked with Ryan, and he thinks it's a great idea, as he's seen me bored before. I actually used my Paintball gun once to re-create the smiley-face-on-the-wall scene from Sherlock. XD. Land-Lord was pissed, and once that paint gets on there… Well, instead of painting over it, we just said we'd do that when we move out. *Cough* Never gonna paint the walls… *cough*.

Moving on… I'm considering this a spin-off of the Black Britain series, but concepts and story lines in these episodes might be mentioned later on in different books. These episodes will be taking place in different time periods, and be mostly unconnected, but will all fit together inside the main story. It will all be completely canon, excluding the fifth episode. One chapter might reference another, but most will be leagues apart from each other. One episode has been mentioned already by my idiotic friend, but I hope the rest of the episodes surprise you in a way.  
I will try my hardest, and make these episodes stand up to my main series, and I hope, to keep you guys along for each new episode.

I've got some cool ideas I can use, that I couldn't while covering Hadrian's life.  
Well that's it for the news about this story, I leave you with a preview for the first chapter. **Enjoy this taste.**

* * *

 **Episode I: The Old Dog.**

* * *

 **If you asked Sirius Orion Black what his worst day had to be,** he'd tell you to shut the fuck up.  
For years after that one night, he didn't speak once, not even when he endured near torture. The good people of the Wizarding World, along with The Order of The Phoenix bounded on him immediately after James and Lilith died, apparently they considered him nothing compared to them. That was a small laugh to him, the only on that horrific night. The entire Order had come for him, all twenty four of them, only thirteen walked away…  
After he had killed the eleven members, they basically ganged up on him, and beat him to a pulp with bashing and cutting curses. He was a bloody, broken mess when they shipped him to Azkaban. He wasn't too mad at the fact he was locked away, he knew Tom and Dean would never let themselves get caught, and that Tom would have taken young Hadrian as soon as possible. He knew Hadrian would be safe in Tom's care, so he didn't worry too much.

Yes, he was angry at their idea to throw him into Hell on earth, but it truly was the wrong place to place him.  
A common problem at the prison, was that the Dementor guards that patrolled the prison drew the prisoner's worst memories to mind. Many prisoners grew insane at the treatment, but Sirius was smart. He found out not long after he arrived, that if he changed into Padfoot, he would not feel the effects of the demons as much before. The grim would fight him of course, and try to make him change back, but he endured. He regretted putting Padfoot through such turmoil, but he knew his mind was more important. Padfoot would be insane, but Sirius Black needed to keep a hold of his sanity.  
 **Just in case he ever escaped.**

 **"Ah Lord Black, we were wondering when you'd arrive… "** That… that was the voice Sirius hated. Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, the man that ruined his life. He killed his brother in all but blood, and stole his true brother… It had hurt him deeply when Regulus joined Dumblefuck's Order of Chickens, but Tom had pointed it out. Regulus was no brother of his, there was only the Marauders left.  
"You killed them… you mother fucker." Sirius said, his voice going hoarse. He still had his back to them, though he quickly started building up his shields. Over the years they had put themselves into different classes based off of an idea of James'. In combat, Sirius would build up his defenses, then fight back his enemies with every single method he did. Before Dumblefuck could say anything else, Sirius threw himself at the closest order member, then repeated the process, throwing punches, kicks, and overall lashing out with his magic.

One member, Elphias Doge got his brain shot across the street, Fabian and Gideon Prewett both got their heads bashed together, blood flying from them.  
Over and over, Sirius flew from person to person, taking down multiple people. Once almost every member was dead or down, Sirius went straight for Dumblefuck, only to get stunned suddenly. When he noticed it wasn't Dumblefuck, he realized who he had missed.

"Ah Regulus, thank you. It saddens me how far your brother has fallen, but I guess James Potter had that to him. He carried people down." Dumblefuck said in his fake sincere voice.

"Couldn't agree more." Regulus Arcturus Black muttered, as he walked to the front of his former brother, and stared right in his eyes. " Good night big brother… "  
At that, Sirius was blasted into unconsciousness, and then beaten by the revived members of the order.

Yeah, Sirius Black would have said that was his worst day, **but no one has asked him yet.**

* * *

 **Coming Very Soon… to a notification to you...**


	2. The Old Dog: Black Memories

**Tales Of Black Britain.**  
 **Episode 1: The Old Dog.**

* * *

 **A.N Hey guys, it's chapter one now, and we'll be seeing the important parts of Sirius' first year, and his meeting with a certain person, that will have a big impact on his life. Enjoy.**  
 **-DTS**

 **R &R**

* * *

 **Chapter one: Black Memories.**

* * *

 **"I don't get, why my life has turned out like it has... At a time, it was just my friends and I, playing in the halls of Hogwarts, mere children...**

 **Then things changed. Dumbledore tried to control us, and our shared hatred of the man grew, into a burning vendetta. Before we all knew it, we went from pouring piss into the old man's coffee, to fighting against him in a bloody war...** **I can remember, when it all started, back when I first stepped onto that damned train...**

 **And my life was set on a long path, that would lead to my best friend's death, and my extended stay in a place worst than hell...**

 **All because I became friends with James Potter..."**

* * *

 **"Now… you know what to do, don't you Sirius?"** Walburga Black asked her oldest son. Sirius Orion Black merely nodded at his mother, before being unexpectedly hugged. With a wave, he left his mother and climbed aboard the Hogwarts Express. He merely ignored the loud noises around him, as his parents often took him to loud places. Meetings they called them, something about preparing him for his future in leading the house.  
He just shrugged it off, he had no idea what to make of himself or his future, but he only knew he wanted to do right by his family.

Sirius made his way through the aisle of the Express, getting bumped repeatedly, and having to hurry through the confined space of the magical train.  
As Sirius got into what seemed to be a race through the train, he immediately dashed when he saw what seemed to be an empty compartment.

After getting in, and locking out the crowd of children, he just sat on the seats and sighed. He had said he was fine with noise, not crowds… After catching his breath, he realized he wasn't alone in the compartment. He opened his eyes, and saw a quiet boy looking intensely at him. The boy had long dark, wild hair, pale skin, and was scarily skinny. The boy seemed to be dressed in dirty clothes much too big for him. The 'Pureblood' part of his mind assumed Muggleborn, but there was something different about his silent companion. While a muggleborn would be asking questions, or wanting to understand their world, this boy was just sitting in silence.

"I-i'm Sirius Black. Who are you?" Sirius asked the boy, deciding to be diplomatic, as he'd prefer sitting with the quiet child than braving the aisle once more.

"I'm James Potter. Question, why do you keep calling me quiet in your head?" The boy asked, hazel eyes burning their way through Sirius's, almost as if he was looking into his soul.

 **"What?"**

* * *

 **"So, you're a lord then…?"** Sirius asked James, who had quickly become the most interesting person on the train.

"Yes, I also know you're going to ask why I dress this way if I'm rich. I was orphaned in the normal world, and only learned of my wealth a week ago. I haven't had the time to shop." James said, motioning to his clothing in slight disgust.

"How do you know what I'm thinking?"

"I've no idea, but I can. I've been able to do it for years. I can also burn things." James said, lighting his hands on fire as if it was nothing. Sirius merely flinched at the powerful display, as he had never seen such a ability in his short life.

"That's… cool."

"Interesting, everyone acts like I'm a monster when I show them. Then I have to make them forget… " James said, trailing his sentence off quietly. Instead of asking, Sirius figured it'd be best to change the sore subject.

"So, what do you know about Hogwarts?"

"Only what the stupid old man told me when he basically forced me to attend." James said, giving Sirius the impression he didn't like the man very much. Sirius knew who the 'old man' was, Albus Dumbledore. His father hated the man, and told Sirius everything he knew, and asked him to make Dumbledore's next seven years hell.

"I'm sorry."

"Why are you sorry? It was the old bastard that sent me here, not you." James muttered, surprised that someone actually felt sympathy for him.

"Just, I'm sorry you have to come here if you don't want to."

"Well, nothing to do about it now. I'm just going to go there, and make him regret coming to get me." James said, a determine and evil grin on his face, which Sirius quickly returned.

 **"Count me in."**

* * *

 **"So, what can you do besides read minds and create fire?"** Sirius asked his friend. They had long since left the express behind and traveled through the traditional first-year path into the castle. They had ignored the giant, and the old woman that greeted them. They just waited until they were escorted with the crowd into the Great Hall.  
Currently, they stood in the line of first-years that were awaiting to be sorted.

"A lot of things, but it'd take a while to show you everything." James began, but stopped when the sorting started to advance.

Sirius had been told it was A to Z, so he calmly went up when the old woman yelled his name. At the announcement of 'Black', the Slytherin table paid attention, as the Black family were always sorted into the Snake den.  
He simply sat on the offered stool, and calmed himself when the sentient hat was placed upon his head.

 _Hmm, another Black. Let's see… Very loyal to your family, but want to be your own person… Very smart, but not scholarly. You want to prove yourself, but not so much that you'd cause trouble for the people you care for… Oh, and anger! You have so much anger, but not much comes from yourself. I see, towards the headmaster as well. Your family hates the man don't they? And have instilled that hate onto you. Normally I would say make your own decisions, but that hate is well earned…_ The Sorting Hat thought to him, seemingly evaluating Sirius' mind.

 _What?_ Sirius responded, wondering what the hat meant.

 _Nevermind it, I've made my decision. It'd be a misjustice to put you anywhere but_ **Slytherin!** The Sorting Hat screamed, announcing to the hall the fate of the newest Black.  
Taking off the hat with a grin, Sirius walked to the welcoming table where his house sat, and just looked to James, who was looking at the hat, Dumbledore, and himself.  
Sirius gave him a reassuring smile, and a wave, which James half heartily returned.

The two separately waited for the list to reach 'P', which didn't take long.

"James Lloyd Potter!" The old witch yelled out, calling the raven child to the stool. James walked up without hesitation, and awaited the hat's judgement. After a few minutes, the hat yelled out in pain, "Gryffin-nd-dor!" The Lion's house applauded at this, along with the Headmaster, who smiled a twisted grin, eyes twinkling.

When Mcgonagall went forward to take the hat, James simply pushed the woman back with a hard push of his hand, and pressed the hat back onto his head, and formed a grimace.  
After a strange moment, the Sorting Hat stuttered for a second, before yelling out once more, this time in anger.  
 **"Slytherin!"**

* * *

 **"I fucking told you! I told you he was to go to Gryffindor!"** Albus Dumbledore yelled the weathered hat that he held in his grasp, his anger very visible at the hat's defiance.  
The hat didn't fight against his grip, just stared at him in a judging manner that made Dumbledore even angrier.

"When did you jinx me…?" The Hat asked, staring at the man in quiet disgust now, as if Dumbledore was something utterly repulsive.

"I've done no such thing! All I've done is tell you to sort him into Gryff-" Dumbledore started only to be cut off by the hat, who snarled back him in response for his dismission.

"YOU FUCKING JINXED ME! HE BROKE THROUGH IT, AND SHOWED ME THE TRUTH! I'VE DONE WHAT'S RIGHT! I WON'T LET YOU CONTROL ME ANY LONGER YOU OLD BASTARD!" The Sorting Hat yelled in anger at the old man that assumed that he knew best. The old Hat had told each Headmaster of the school the same thing, they had no control over it. His job was to sort students into the respective houses, which the Headmaster's had no choice in. Every single Headmaster had abided by the rule, and only Headmaster Albus Dumbledore had broken it. The Sorting Hat was truly grateful to the young Potter, who had broken through the horrible veil that hid the truth from it, revealing every thing.

Dumbledore merely ignored the Hat, and cast the strongest memory and compulsion charm combination he knew. If the Sorting Hat didn't want to obey him, he'd just make it.  
 **He was the damn Headmaster after all.**

* * *

 **"So… what happened up there? Why did the hat change his mind?"** Sirius Black asked his strange friend as they sat in one of the sofas in Slytherin Common Roof. James actually was willing to talk, and had a dark grin on his face. In his opinion, this was the first of many victories. "Our 'esteemed' Headmaster placed a serious jinx on the hat Sirius." James said with a grin, before continuing. "Dumbledore wanted me to go to his pathetic house, so I broke the jinx, and freed the hat. After a bit of breaking through the hat's binds, it was able to correct things and place me in the right house."

Sirius was silent for a few moments, and took a little bit of time before responding. "What can't you do?"

"Rise the dead, control time, steal the power of others, and shape-shift. Have no worry, I'm sure I can figure it all out soon. Give me time." James said surely, an ambitious grin on his face, which Sirius couldn't help but smile at.  
 **"Looking forward to it."**

* * *

 **"An entire library, full of books of hundreds of kinds, and not a reliable one on defense."** James complained, punching the bookshelf a bit. The thin raven-haired boy had been angry when they had met their defense teacher. The man, Gilbert Lockhart, was an utter joke. They had no idea how he was even allowed to teach students. He mostly had them study him, or learn useless details. The man seemed more focused on himself, than being a acceptable teacher.  
"Yeah, it's horrible. Do they honestly expect us to learn with that stupid git as our professor?" "From what I've heard, Dumbledore hires professors… Personally, I think the man's a bit senile. Then again, he may just enjoy the man's company, I mean… they're so similar." James said, bringing a laugh to the two.

"True. Who knows, they might be related somehow."

"I doubt it, but anything's possible in this world… "

"You may just be right." Sirius said, really thinking over what he knew of their world, and acknowledged that perhaps anything really was possible in the world they lived in. He had seen many different, 'impossible' things in just the past months, things that'd make his parents thing they'd gone insane.

 **" Of course I am, I'm always right."**

* * *

 **(A school year, and two months later.)**

* * *

 **"James… James, are you awake?"** Sirius asked his friend, hoping his friend was somehow awake at the late hour. He had been awakened in the night, and had walked to his friend's bed, and shaken him slightly.

"Sirius Black, why the fuck are you waking me up at close to midnight?" James asked, hitting his friend violently with his pillow.

"I heard something. There's some kind of creature out in the Forbidden Forest, and it's killing something… " Sirius muttered, not so much scared, but more concerned.

"How do you know?" James asked, cocking an eye at his friend.

"I heard the sounds of an animal in pain, and howls." Sirius said, crossing his arms, and interesting his friend.

"All right… you got your wand?" James asked, quickly getting out of the bed, and picking up some of his stuff. Sirius nodded at this, as he pulled his wand out of his pocket. James was satisfied, and pulled his own wand from under his mattress, and produced a sword out from seemingly nowhere. He pulled on his boots, cloak, and what looked like gauntlets. After getting ready, James placed his hand on Sirius' shoulder and led him out of their dorm.

"So… we're going to check it out?" Sirius asked his friend, hoping that they'd get to the bottom of this small mystery. James nodded, before turning to his friend with a dark grin.

 **"Sirius my friend… you ever wanted to hunt a werewolf?"**

* * *

 **Did you all enjoy? I hope you did.**

Not much to say, but… that cliffhanger though.

Yes, that is a hint about a much familiar werewolf, but things are going to be much different. If you're wondering if he would be a werewolf by this point, he was bitten at five, so he definitely would be. There will be a plot point behind Mr. Lupin, and will explain why he isn't a member of the Marauders, and isn't a friendly in this AU.

Sorry for the wait for this… short chapter, but real life, job, and I've been helping Ryan with book three, which is taking most of our time, as we're basically thinking up the entire plot, what we can use from canon, what we can't, and what we'll need to add. It's a complicated plan, especially since we need it to fit with our future plans.  
I won't say much more, but have a nice afternoon all of you.  
Good Bye. :)  
 **-DTS**


	3. The Old Dog: The Banes of The Wolf

**Tales Of Black Britain.**  
 **Episode 1: The Old Dog.**

* * *

 **A.N**

Another chapter, (And it's quick too!) and Sirius and James continue in their school years, though they're in second year at the beginning here, there is time-jumps. There's some mentions of dead things, but things die when a werewolf goes on a rampage. Not everything is sparkly clean in the Forbidden Forest, far from it. An old friend of Sirius' will be meeting up here, and will be meeting him as well. This chapter will mostly cover their dealings with this individual, and another. You'll see. Hope you enjoy the chapter.  
 **-DTS**

 **R &R**

* * *

 **Chapter Two: The Banes of The Wolf**

* * *

 **Azkaban Island, Magical Britain**

 **(1992.)**

* * *

 **"Been'a long time Grim."** A deep voice rumbled in the Permanent wing of Azkaban. Sirius Orion Black stiffened slightly in his cell, he had hoped his 'visitor' had died long ago.  
His fears were answered, when a tall, rugged man with fierce stubble walked to the front of his cell door. The man looked over Sirius, in both amusement, and sympathy.

"Greyback… Thought you died… Hoped you did." Sirius said to the man who just didn't seem to die. After seeing the man again, Sirius was slightly regretful of how things had ended up back in 81'. Their entire group had broken apart after James and Lilith's deaths. The main group had fallen, while some of their numbers had fled overseas. Most of the others died, and a few joined Sirius in the 'welcoming' cold halls of Azkaban.

"Funny as always Grim, need a blanket in there?" Fenrir Greyback asked, leaning his weight against the metal bars. Sirius just frowned at this, his sense of humor had slowly died over the years, the only remainder being a cold version of mockery.

"Nah, hatred burns hot, especially during winter."

"Ya' sure? I can get you one easy, in fact, got one right here." Fenrir offered, holding an actual blanket in his large fist. He surprisingly seemed sincere, which unnerved Sirius.

"Tell me this first… How the hell did you survive, and why are you here?" Sirius asked the werewolf, skepticism at the man's unlikely survival. He knew from experience, you could be strong beyond belief, but you can always be outnumbered and taken down.

"I killed most of the Auror force before they took me down. They tried again an' again to kill me, but Jamie's old gift came in handy… Silver can't even touch me. When they found out they almost couldn't kill me, they threw me into a hole in the Arctic until I agreed to be 'Civil'." Fenrir said, picking at parts in his tale on how he got to where he was now. "Once I did, they sent me out afta' I took an oath not to take over the world. I worked as a Hit-Man for a few years, sometimes a bodyguard for an odd day. Last year, I got a letter telling me ol' Azkaban needed help, and didn't mind who it came from… "

"An Alpha Werewolf, working for mere wizards…"

"Well, it's almost always been like that ain't it. Yeah, I preferred working for Jamie, but at least now I don't have to hide from the weak fools. I can walk down the street, and the dumbshit Minister can't bloody touch me." Fenrir gloated, smirking at his progress in the world. After focusing once more on the present, he threw Sirius the blanket in an act of kindness.

"Ah… Tell me Fenrir, why did you come see me? I don't really many visitors. If you're a guard, there must be something to do than talk to this old dog…" Sirius asked his old comrade, wondering what game the werewolf was playing.

"Hmm, this place is smarting you up Grim. I got plans for you my friend. Big plans, but they gotta wait for now. Let me talk to some people, then I'll get back to ya. By the way, Bella says hi. Peace out Grim." Fenrir said, slowly walking from the cell, his heavy footfalls echoing in the empty halls. Sirius thought about what the man had said, and wondered what the mad werewolf had planned.

"Why do I have the feeling there's going to be blood on these floors soon…?" Sirius muttered to himself, sitting back on the sleeping mat, and huddling inside the blanket. In a second, a large, skinny black Grim was nestled inside the blanket, and reveling in the blessed coverage from the icy cold.

 **He had to thank Fenrir for that blanket some day.**

* * *

 **The Forbidden Forest**

 **(1972)**

* * *

 **The two children moved quickly through the darkness,** listening to the grisly sounds of slaughter, and following in the footsteps of the predator. They tracked footsteps, blood spills, anything that could lead them to the werewolf. Not once did getting help become an idea for them.

Sirius steeled himself not to vomit from seeing the trails of gore that trailed along the forest path. Entrails, dead animals, many different once living creatures relieved of their lives.

It was as if a mad beast had went on a blood-lust driven rampage.  
James on the other hand was shockingly unaffected, and just kept following the path, mind focused in the state of a tracker.  
After a few minutes, they reached the end of the barren path, and encountered a horrific sight.

At their feet lay, a beautiful, but tragic sight. The mythical beast was pure white, and had rippling muscles. It's main watched the same color as it's flesh, and glowed a dim silver. A single, straight horn protruded from it's forehead, letting all know what it had been.  
A grown Unicorn was ripped apart and eaten. At the sight of the bloody and defiled corpse, Sirius emptied every single thing he had eaten during the day, the filth soon joined by James' meals.  
At the sound of violent rustling, James shrugged off the horror, and drew his sword and wand. With his right hand backhanding his sword, and his left gripping his wand, he turned to the sound.

"SIRIUS DUCK!" James yelled out, alerting Sirius to the sudden savage form that now jumped through the air at the taller of the two. Sirius threw himself to the ground, and watched as the beast flew above him, only to be smacked back against a tree by the side of James' sword.

"Bad dog… " James muttered, stretching his left arm after the hit. He then ran towards the werewolf, beginning the fight.

Knowing that the hide would be resistant without silver, James just relied on beating the werewolf. Sirius watched, as his friend beat the creature from one side of the forest to the other, as if it was just a base ball.

After the werewolf was knocked to the floor, it unexpectedly lunged at James, and slashed it's claws through James clothes, only to hit armor. While it wasted it's time, James retaliated, and resumed his tirade on the beast.

While the two fought, Sirius kept around the beast, making sure he was unseen. He grabbed a twig from the ground, and used a simple spell his father had taught him as a 'shortcut' to transfiguration. After sharpening the stick, and giving it the properties of silver, Sirius dashed to the werewolf, and plunged the stick into it's throat. The creature howled in pain, and threw Sirius off it's back as it shuddered and racked itself in pain.

James finished the beast off with a solid kick to it's chest, which caused it to go flying off into the woods. After a few moments, they heard the sounds of the creature running in desperation from them, obviously regretting it's attack.  
As James and Sirius stood in the clearing, they calmed down, and gathered their breaths. As he got his senses back, James looked towards the brightening sky, and turned to his friend.

"I think it's time for breakfast… Clinic? or just breakfast?" James asked his friend, thinking they were relatively fine. Sirius just nodded, leading his friend back to the castle.  
 **"Well, we fought a werewolf… "**

* * *

 **(A long month later.)**

* * *

 **When Sirius woke up, he was in a dim room.** As he looked, he realized he was sitting in a seat, and by his side was James, in the same predicament. Sirius didn't recognize the room, but James apparently did from the way he stiffened.  
After a few moments, a young man, perhaps twenty or so, walked into the room. The man had long, scruffy brown hair, and wore black robes that hung on his thick body.

"Hello gentlemen, my name is Greyback. I hear you got attacked by a werewolf a not long ago…?" The man addressed them, revealing that he knew of their fight in the forest.

"We did. I know from your eyes that you weren't the werewolf that attacked us, but you know who it was. Who killed the Unicorn?" James calmly asked the teen who had seemingly kidnapped them.

"You're the smart one aren't yeah? I know who killed it, boy by the name of Lupin. I bit him years ago, after his father decided he wanted to slaughter my town, and it's people. Hunter Lupin hates werewolves, I made his son one… " Greyback said, a grudge obvious in his voice. The both of them could tell the man was dangerous and unhinged, but James knew that people like that could be useful.

"You are his Sire then… you can control him. Do it." James ordered the older male, not even afraid of him attacking. Greyback seemed impressed, or amused by this as he laughed loudly at this.

"You are the smart one, and I'm guessing the strong one, as only an idiot, or someone confident would be that brave in your situation." Greyback said, looking at James from multiple angles, as if to get a better read on him.

"Yes, I am, and I believe I asked for you to control him." James said, not in a question, but as a statement.

"Anyone other than you kid, and I'd rip their head off and stick it on a spike. The reason you're alive? I feel something about you, almost as if you're a pack member of mine… but you're not. Something in my gut tells me to help you, so I will." Greyback said, pulling the two to their feet.

"I can call Apha Law on him, as I'm the oldest, and most powerful in the area. I can imbalance the lunar cycle in the area, so that his transformation will be painful if he breaks any 'rules'. I'll limit his prey to animals, and make him pay if he even touches another one of the 'Corns." Greyback answered, setting their worries aside. Leading them ahead, Greyback revealed to them that they were inside of the neighboring village to Hogwarts, and told them of a way to return to the school unnoticed.

They offered their thanks to the werewolf, and they set off to the castle, assuming that they were done with the business of wolves.

 **Oh, they were wrong.**

* * *

 **(1975)**

* * *

 **"Fucking wolf! I'll skin you alive!"** Sirius Black screamed, as he tossed the battered form of his rival across the courtyard. Yet again, the two had broken out in a fight, which had become accustomed to them. Sirius' friends merely waited in the background for Sirius to end, so that they could move on. James and Lilith just sat and watched, Tom made sure Remus' friend didn't intrude on the fight, while Dean looked out for professors.

The cause of this specific fight, was that Remus had slipped a report to the Ministry, claiming Sirius was an unregistered Animagus. Unknown to both of them, the Ministry immediately threw out the report once they learned a werewolf sent it, making the fight useless.

The two were well matched in their fight, as they often fought against each other. Sirius would use his superior strength, and tactics, while Remus would use his instincts, and moderate strength to his advantage. Though the two had fought many times before, the Black heir always won.

"You told the world I was a werewolf!" Remus Lupin screamed, throwing himself at the older teen, bashing his fists against him. After a few seconds, Sirius literally chucked Remus off of him, and sent him crashing against the ground.

"You did that! You murdered two students! Did you not expect the news to get out! Death gets noticed!" Sirius yelled, finishing the fight using a Beater's Bat he quickly resized from his pocket. The bat collided with the side of the werewolf's head, knocking him out for the count, and causing blood to bullet through the air.

Sirius shook off the adrenaline slowly, and calmed down to a normal state.

"What did I tell you? He always wins." James said proudly, patting his friend's shoulder when he headed towards them.  
 **"Nice job Padfoot."**

* * *

 **(1978)**

* * *

 **"Look who it is? The wonder twins. What ya up to boys?"** Fenrir Greyback asked, as he walked up to the two teens. The two were gathering their equipment for the next raid, when the man arrived as if out of nowhere.

"James, what's Greyback doing here?" Sirius asked his friend as they sorted through their weapons and supplies.

"Well Grim, I'm here to help. Heard you boys were going to go destroy shit, I'm in." Greyback said to them, seeming to enjoy himself.

"How long until Full Moon?" James asked the man, without disrupting his work.

"Three nights, when's the raid planned?"

"Tomorrow night. What do you have to offer for support?" Sirius answered, questioning what the werewolf could offer without his other form.

"I'm very strong, and I've trained to use my abilities and instincts, unlike Lupin. I hit harder, run faster, and do more damage than any man." Greyback said, not gloating, just acknowledging the fact. Though neither of them had actually fought the elder werewolf before, they could tell he was powerful. They really only had one answer.

 **"All right, welcome to the Marauders Greyback."**

* * *

 **Good chapter?**  
In this universe, Greyback doesn't replace Moony, he's more of an extra marauder. In the Black Britain Universe, think of the Marauders as the Justice League. There's the main group (James, Lilith, Tom, Dean, Sirius.), then there's Justice League East/West/South/whatever-direction. (Severus, Victoria, Bella, Fenrir.)

Greyback will be appearing inside book three, as it's suppose to be a reunion of sorts of the surviving Marauders, and then reforming to win the eventual fight against the Order of The Phoenix. All the while, Hadrian will be doing his own thing. Hope you enjoyed, have a good night you all.  
 **-DTS**


	4. The Old Dog: The Dark Times

**Tales Of Black Britain.**  
 **Episode 1: The Old Dog.**

* * *

 **A.N**

This is part three now, and it's the lead up to the darkest parts of the Second Wizarding War. We see a bit of the conflicts between the Order and the Marauders, as their war becomes intense, and the entire thing approaches the end. Hope you enjoy.

- **DTS**

 **R &R**

* * *

 **Chapter Three: The Dark Times**

* * *

 **Marauder Headquarters.**

 **(1980)**

* * *

 **"You're fucking psychotic Black!"** Edgar Bones yelled out in anger and pain, as his arm was twisted far behind his back, (ironically) his bones were beginning to bend and break.

"Yeah, I am… but, you know Edgy, you can stop me. You just have to tell me where the Order is…" Sirius Orion Black muttered calmly, as he pushed the older man's arm further into his own back, causing sharp pain to shoot through his body, as the bones inside it started to snap loudly.

"Fuck you! I'll never tell you monsters!" Edgar yelled venomously, though his voice began to break down from the pain.. The man still refused, after almost seven hours passed. Sirius and Tom had both taken turns, trying every single tactic they knew on the man in an attempt to crack him. They had a stroke of luck capturing the man, but so far he had proven extremely loyal to Dumblefuck. They had tried magical, and muggle means of interrogation. Added in threats, severe injuries, and had killed him once already, and had to start his heart back up.

"Listen Bones! You will die no matter what, you should know that by now. If you don't talk though, sweet little Susan will be joining you… Your cute little niece… You wouldn't want us taking her along for the ride, would you?" Tom threatened, he had sat to the side during Sirius' turn, but he figured he knew the right card to play on the man. They already knew they had to kill the man, James had told them to right when they captured him. Get information, then take out the trash. The Susan line was a complete bluff, they wouldn't hurt children, but Edgar didn't know that…

"Don't you damn touch her…!" Edgar spouted, before screaming in sheer pain. His arm had finally given away, the bones in it completely broken. After seeing the man had, had enough for the moment, Sirius let the man drop to the floor, and joined Tom by the side of the room. They were inside of what they referred to as 'The Dungeon', with their little prisoner. When they explored the Black Property that they had converted into their headquarters, they had found a very nice little torture room in the basement. Sirius' home had many advantages.

"Oh Edgar, you are beaten, bloody, and broken. You're locked inside a dark little house, far from your cushy home, and trapped with two homicidal killers… Do you really think it's your turn to order people around?" Tom asked in a dark, soft voice as he stood over the man.

When Edgar just glared at him in hatred, Tom kicked the man across the room at what seemed to be the speed of light. The thud was loud, as Edgar's body hit the far wall, falling into a bloody heap on the floor.

"Now… Edgy, anything to say yet?" Sirius asked the man, as he followed Tom over to their prisoner. He just watched the once proud man, who now lay battered and beaten at their feet. If the Order hadn't worked their hardest to make the lives of the friends hell, they might have felt bad. They didn't.

"Dumbled-dore i-is going to b-burn your b-bloody base to the ground!" Edgar yelled, as he coughed up dark-brown blood onto the floor. Sirius then lifted the man up by his throat as he freaked out a little internally.

"What did you say?" Sirius asked, his dark humor from earlier now replaced by anger and danger.

"D-did you think you shits could hide!? Ha! I-if anything, he's on his way here!" Edgar yelled out, his tirade being stopped as Sirius smashed his skull against the floor. Sirius then stood, his hands now covered in the man's blood… along with other little bits that came out when the head collided with the floor.

"Tom, you heard him. Send Mystery out, we're burning the base. Tell the guys we've been compromised." Sirius said to his friend, but before either could react, they both were knocked to the ground when a sudden explosion smashed against the wards, shaking the house.  
After it was followed with several more, the house began to fall apart, the two Marauders just barely getting out in time.

That, was the destruction of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place.  
It was this one event, this point, where the war grew grim… **and the dark times began…**

* * *

 **"Attention Wizarding World, I have something to tell you,** and I want to warn you… " A loud voice blared throughout almost every single magical location in the world.

"My name is James Lloyd Pevenno Slytherin Atlantes Jinn Peverell Potter, and I'm going to bring about your worst nightmare… If Albus Dumbledore does not surrender to me, I will break the Statute of Secrecy… and reveal to the Muggle world our existence.  
You won't be able to obliviate your way out of it this time, as there's more muggles than wizards on the planet. They'd kill you all before you got a chance… Ever heard of a Nuke? No? Machines that blow up things, in a very big way.

I'll tell every single leader, of every single society about us, and what we could do, and what we've done. Wizards have played large roles in many muggle wars, and caused several of them. I don't believe they'll find that funny.  
I know you would believe this to be harsh, or insane… but if that's what it takes to get Dumbledore's attention, so be it. You have one day.  
I'll be waiting Dumblefuck… See you in Diagon." The voice of James Potter said, calling out through the wizarding world, for all to hear, that he was a force to be reckoned with. What they all learned as well, that James truly had nothing against revealing himself to muggles, as they couldn't touch him.  
At this point of time, he'd do anything to bring him and his friends out on the winning side of the war. He wasn't afraid like the bigots, and that was his advantage.  
He could adapt, while the old fools couldn't, **and that's why he would win.**

* * *

 **"Do you really think that was necessary James?"** Albus Dumbledore asked the young dark lord. Eventually, after five hours passed, Dumbledore arrived at the center of Diagon Alley like James had asked. He hadn't brought along the Order, as he had suffered too many losses inside the Order, and he couldn't deal with losing anymore.  
James had already been there when he arrived, and was completely alone, much to Dumbledore's surprise. He suspected that James' little friends were hiding elsewhere inside the Alley, waiting just for the right moment.  
James was dressed like a Warlock ready for war. He wore pure-black war robes, trailed with silver fastenings. Black gauntlets, along with other pieces of other covered sections of his robes, providing a 'Black Knight' feel to the outfit. He had a long black cloak trailing off of his shoulder and covering his head, with a pointed shard of metal atop it, giving his head a sharp point similar to a horned helmet.  
At his waist, were two sheaths, which contained a long silver blade in each.

At his right wrist, was a hand holster, that held his dark-Mahogany wand, which sat ready for action.  
Across his back, the near-legendary Black-Thorn Blade hung, sharp as a razor-blade, and longer than his body. At the hilt of the blade, was a small, strange circle drawn in what seemed like blood. James just looked at Dumbledore, and laughed loudly…

"You're still playing the sensible, old grandfather, really?" James asked through his cloak, which spread a shadow across his face, slightly hiding his features.

"W-what do you mean?"

"Fucking-Shut-It. We both know you're an asshole, we both know I'm an asshole, let's just be true to ourselves. No more lies, no more pretending. I fucking hate you, and want to cut your wrinkly head, off your body." James said to the man, as he stepped closer, staring him in the eyes, while drilling through his mind. Dumbledore quickly adverted his eyes, though he kept the same pose as before.

"James, must you really be so childish. Swearing at me, and threatening me. Saying you'll reveal us all, do you know how muggles will react to you, telling them? They'll kill you, or put you away, thinking you're insane." Dumbledore said, attempting to be wise and state 'logic.'

"I'm childish?" James mockingly asked, as he chuckled darkly. "You're the one wearing pink and yellow robes to a battle." He gestured to Dumbledore's robes in humor, then showing his chosen attire. "As well, unlike you, I'm not afraid of muggles. I'll let them destroy you if I want, and I'll be perfectly fine. They're like flies to me, just like you. You barely affect me."

"Y-you shouldn't think of people like that! Those are real people!" Dumbledore exclaimed, trying to be 'good' for the watching crowd.

"I know, but that doesn't mean they have a chance against me. I doubt their strongest weapons would kill me. Just like that, I'm better than you." James said smugly, as he walked back to the spot he started at.

"I thought you wanted to kill me?" Dumbledore asked, wondering what the point of the forced meeting was.

"I do, and I will…. but that's not what we're here for… I'm going to kill your spirit first, then kill you. I think you're going to be fun." James answered back sharply, laughing darkly as well.

"What are you-?" Before Dumbledore could even get four words now, the ground beneath him was blasted away, his old body going sailing into the side of Gringotts bank, blood splattering the white marble. The spectators just watched in horror, as their so supposed 'hero' was shot into a building, seemingly dead.

"Wow… PE4 is very strong… " A extra voice said, as a tall young man with black hair, pulled off a black, textured cloak, revealing himself to the alley. He stretched slightly, before handing the cloak to James. "Thanks for letting me see that, that was brilliant."

"Yeah, it was. I think we should leave though… Minchum's goons are going to be here soon." James said to his friend, looking around for the usual armored aurors.

"Okay, we're meeting up at your place. See ya James." Sirius Orion Black said, before portkeying out of the alley.

That small confrontation, escalated everything.  
Riots, attacks, raids, all events of different kinds appeared throughout Britain. Controlled chaos reigned, pushing the figures of Light to their limits.

The Marauder Assault on Britain continued, only stopping… on one dark night.  
When a Lord of the Dark, **once more met with a Lord of the Light.**

* * *

 **Did you enjoy? Review if you did.**

There will be one more chapter inside The Old Dog, then I'll be moving onto the next Episode soon after that.

There will be a short preview of the next Episode at the end of the next chapter, just like there was at the end of the Introduction.

This is goodbye for now, see you all later.

 **-DTS**


	5. The Old Dog: The Prison of The Mad

**Tales Of Black Britain.**  
 **Episode 1: The Old Dog.**

* * *

 **A.N**

* * *

 **It's the last chapter of Old Dog now,** so Sirius' episode will be concluded here. I'll also be giving you all a taste of the next episode, which I hope will get you excited. This chapter will mainly be the remainder of Sirius' imprisonment, cover a portion of his escape. This chapter's events will be re-covered inside book three, but Ryan will be going with a different perspective for it.  
Enjoy.

 **-DTS**

 **R &R**

* * *

 **Episode End: The Prison of The Mad**

* * *

 **Azkaban Island, Magical Britain**

* * *

 **Sirius watched, as the fire consumed his friend's small home.** The gleaming, green flames lit up the night, increasing his horror and awe of the night. He somehow saw his two friends killed at Dumbledore's hand, along with their bodies being consumed by the flames. The night came back to haunt him every so often, along with many other dark memories, but normally it required the actions of the Dementors to cause his dreams to change to nightmares.  
After realizing where he was, Sirius found himself once more inside his cold cell, his Dementor tormentor now disappointed that he had broken free. He just glared at the demon, and flashed it the middle finger. Even in Hell, he had to express himself in a way, and the inhuman guards of Azkaban usually were his 'victims'. He was dreadfully lonely, which had a effect on his mind as well, usually Greyback visited every once in a while, but most of the time Sirius was abandoned to his lonesome. Every once in a while, he'd swear he would hear a voice, or someone pleading to him, but he had broken through the power of the Dementors, and saw the prison for what it truly was…

 **An unholy asylum...**

* * *

 **"Hello Grim, how's the mornin' been?"** A deep, metallic voice asked him, as once more Sirius Black's lycanthrope acquaintance came to visit. Sirius looked up from the stone floor, and shifted his eyes over to the werewolf, wondering what would warrant this meeting.

"Fucking terrible, but that's normal here." Sirius coldly said, his tone matching the atmosphere of the cursed island he'd been imprisoned on.

"That's good to know," Fenrir Greyback said happily, before growing strangely distant and dark. "Look, Sirius… a few days from now, something big is going to happen. You are at the center of it all, so you will be playing a part in it." The hulking man took a small pause then, before continuing. "Sirius… what are you willing to sacrifice to leave this shithole?"

Sirius looked at his old Allie at this, and thought for a few moments, before answering.  
 **"Anything."**

* * *

 **(July 1st, 1993.)**

* * *

 **"So, who are you exactly?"** The Head Guard asked the first of the two men that had arrived at the prison, asking for entrance.  
The first man, stood tall and strong, though his body language suggested he was more of an intellectual, then a fighter. He had long, curly black hair, that framed the top of his head. He was dressed in dark clothing, very similar to that of a character from a crime noir film. The man next to him was dressed in a similar manner, but with slightly brighter colors making up his outfit.  
Out of the two of the men, the first stuck to the guard's mind, as he had never met a man with red eyes before…

"Milto Dedr, magical P.I. This is my partner, Dane Chambers." The man said in a Romanian accent, as he introduced his partner, who nodded at the guard. "We are here investigating a breakout that occurred at the prison…"

"What breakout? There has never been a single person who's escaped from Azkaban…? When was there a breakout? " The guard asked in confusion, and wondered what exactly the men were talking about.

"Oh… just today." 'Milto' said, as he quickly bashed his fist into the guard's face, causing his body to drop to the floor like stone. The two men quickly pulled the guard into a dark corner, and slipped into the prison using the guard's keys.

"Milto? Really?!" 'Dane' asked, as the two walked through the corridor quickly, as dementors quickly came out of the woodwork to pursue them.

"What?! I go with anagrams, that's what I do!" 'Milto' said in defense, as the two quickly made their way to the Permanent Wing of the prison, avoiding the demons that followed. His accent disappeared like smoke, along with his detective clothing, revealing simple black robes beneath them.

Once they reached the end of the corridor, they were presented with two separate ways to go, which caused them to split up, both going down their respective ways.

As the dementors were fast approaching, 'Milto' quickly changed into a small black bird, and flew down the halls, looking for a specific cell. As he went along, he heard of the roar of a grizzly bear, which told him his partner was working as well.

After not seeing any aurors inside, he figured that the wolf had done his part, and disposed of them. He just hoped they wouldn't have to burn too many bodies…

With a loud squawk, he cut through a section of the cells, between bars and rooms, before emerging inside a new section of the wing.

He, one by one, checked the cells and their owners, before moving on to the next ones. Eventually he came to a single, dark cell, which seemed to be the coldest spot in the castle, giving him a guess that he found the right spot.

He turned back to his original form then, and approached the cell bars. He tapped them with his white, yew wand, causing them to fall forward to the stone floor.

The resident of the cell watched the man enter, and struggled to his feet, before going to face the visitor.

"Took you way too damn long." Sirius Black muttered, as he punched his weak fist against the man's chest.

"Come on you old dog." The man said, as he grabbed a hold of his friend. Once he got a firm grip on him, he removed a whistle from his robes, and blew into it three times, alerting his partner that he had freed the target.

"Where are we going?" Sirius asked his old friend, as he was helped out of his cells, and into hallway.

"Home… We're going home." Tom Marvolo Riddle said to his friend, as he set off to find their grizzly friend.

 **"Alright then… "**

* * *

 **The dirty-blonde bear ran throughout the hall,** jumping at the dementors, and searching the hallway for the correct cell. Unfortunately, he ended up at a dead end, and was soon surrounded by dementors. The man quickly changed back to normal, and pulled out his wand, Expecto Patronum on his lips, before the spell was already cast for him.  
A dark blue, transparent wolf jumped at the dementors, causing them to back off long enough for him to ready himself.

"Hey there Weeds, fancy seeing you here." Greyback said in greeting, as he ran up from behind the dementors, his own wand in hand. The werewolf rarely used his wand, but that didn't mean he was useless at magic, as the two men quickly began blasting away at the demons, until they were able to get out of the weak spot, and return to the main section of the prison wing. They then went on a search for their friends, while their friends did the exact same.

It didn't take long for the four to reunite, and escape the prison, which was quickly swamped with aurors and other figures of the light.

But while the three men had succeeded in rescuing one Black, another was left behind.  
One of the men was angered by the fact, but they had known time wasn't theirs to idle with.

Even though the men knew they needed to leave the place as quick as possible…

They agreed to return, and then no one would be left behind….

Nothing could stop them now, as they were together once more.

 **The Marauders lived.**

* * *

 **Well, that was the end of this episode.** Yes, I know it wasn't very long, but I didn't have much more to cover from Sirius' perspective. I've told the short story of the 'good' Black, though he will be playing a role in the main series as well.  
Like I said, Ryan will be covering the escape as well, but from different perspectives then the one's shown here. Now, I leave you with a preview of the next episode, enjoy.  
 **-DTS**

* * *

 **Episode Two: The New Blood.**

* * *

 **Warren Jarvis's life was full of hardship.**

He had grown up as an orphan, after his mother had died during childbirth long ago.  
He never met his father as child, as the man left as quick as he could. He had been a pure blood lord, Warren knew that much, and had thought he was able to just rape a poor girl… and leave her poor and defenseless in this world… He wish he knew what happened to his 'father', as he would ensure the man's death if he still lived.

From a young age, Warren knew he was different… powerful in a way others weren't. Of course, as child, he had no idea about the truth behind their way. He had no idea what lurked in it. Ghosts, vampires, werewolves, wizards, witches, and other beings that were included in the supernatural. His world truly was interesting.

Eventually, he was adopted from the orphanage he had grown up in, but that was just another of the nightmares that had happened in his life.  
The man that had taken him as his own, had been one of the worse men Warren had ever known. He had attempted to groom Warren to be like him, a racist, bigoted, old man that treated any wizarding family that wasn't 'pure' like filth.

The old man's attitude and actions, had actually been what morphed Warren into the man he was today, a strong willed person, who was disgusted by the older members of their society.

He had rebelled against the man, and had taken a stance against the pure bloods, though if only known to himself. He acted as a 'good' little child, got good grades, and went to Hogwarts. He had a quiet life, and waited until a time where he could escape from the mad world he had been forced into.

It was years later, that he found a reason to stay within the magical world.

He had met a man named Salvador, who told him of a group of people inside the Ministry, who like him, were disgusted by their world and it's leaders.  
Salvador told him of their goals, and their plans for the wizarding world, and Warren agreed to join them not long after. With his new job, came the chance to stand up to the pure bloods, and fight for himself and others like him, if only from the shadows.

Over his years with the 'New Bloods', he was sent on several missions, which took him to many different places, and to many different people. On some days, he'd be a bodyguard, on others an assassin, and occasionally a spy. He had proven his worth to the group, and showed that he was a confident agent, and was able to take on any mission.

Normally, his life had nothing to do with his work, but he soon found himself in a difficult situation.

He had a new mission… and it involved a certain raven-haired boy.  
His group had a new goal, but he didn't know what the consequences of his mission would be…

 **And just how important he really was to everything.**

* * *

 **Coming soon. ;)**


	6. The New Blood: The Kicked Badger

**Tales Of Black Britain.**  
 **Episode 2: The New Blood**

 **A.N**

Well, this is the first chapter of The New Blood. Just like the first chapter of The Old Dog, I'll be covering Warren's childhood, and early Hogwarts years. The next three chapters most likely will cover the end of his Hogwarts years, his introduction into 'The New Bloods', and what he's doing around the time of book three.  
I'm pretty sure that's it, bye for now.  
Enjoy!  
 **-DTS**

 **R &R**

* * *

 **Chapter One: The Kicked Badger.**

* * *

 **"When I was a child, I was exposed to the worst of mankind. I was surrounded by madmen, murderers, liars, and monsters... And I was repulsed. On one sad day, I made an oath to myself, to stop men like them from getting powerful and to stop them from continuing their madness... To stop them from hurting good people...**

 **I'm sticking to that promise, and nothing will stop me."**

* * *

 **Cardiff, Wales, United Kingdom (1976)**

 **"Now… what are those people called, boy?"** Efraim Jarvis asked his adopted son, while pointing at the people that lay tied up in the corner of the dungeon. The man had dragged them all down into the deepest room of his manor, and trapped them down there until he returned for them later. He had now brought his 'son' along with him, since he caught him talking to some muggleborn girl after he arrived to pick him up from his school. The seven year old had no idea what he had done.

"M-mugglebor-" Young Warren Jarvis attempted to say as his answer, only to get punched hard in his jaw, sending him flying into the stone wall, breaking at least one of his small teeth.

"WRONG! They are MUD BLOODS! Filthy vermin!" Efraim yelled as he grabbed the nearest by the neck, and held them up in the air. "You see! He can' even stop me! Pathetic! WEAK!"

Warren merely watched, as his 'father' disposed of the Muggleborn. One by one, the man slaughtered them with spells, weapons, and even his fist, and felt better about it. To him, he was cleansing the world of the supposed 'filth of the mundane.'

"Why are you starin' at me boy?! I'm doin' the world a favor!" The insane man yelled at Warren, who only stared in horror at the man, before slowly looking away from the madness that lay before him.  
It was on that day, Warren swore **never to say the word Mudblood.**

* * *

 **Platform 9 ¾, King's Cross Station**

 **(1980)**

* * *

 **"What are ya gonna do now boy?"** The man asked Warren as the boy stood on the stairs of the Hogwarts Express, and turned back to the man that insisted on being his father.

"Keep my mouth shut, and be nice...?"

"Good… Now, get!" Efraim yelled, dismissing Warren to board the train.

Warren immediately ran with his trunk to the back of the train, and shoved himself into the farthest-left compartment. Once he was resting on the comfortable padded bench, he began to unpack some of his books. He absently threw a locking charm at the door in the process, before resuming his work.  
He decided on one of his charms books, and began to read through the small book. After a few minutes of reading through one of of his books, he heard his compartment door open, much to his surprise. Two almost identical boys sat down on the opposite bench, and stared at him. They both had light brown hair, which clashed with their silver eyes.

"So… why did you lock the door?" The one on the right asked him, curiosity in his eyes, as he looked at Warren. The one on his left shared the look, but didn't say a word in response.

"I didn't want to be interrupted… " Warren replied, before attempting to read once more, only for the right one to begin talking once more to him.

"Why is that?"

"My father" Warren said this word with disgust, before continuing. "Pissed me off, so I'm avoiding people. He is a disgusting monster that hurts people for fun… "

Both of his fellow passengers thought about his statement, before the right one began to reply in a similar tone.

"That makes us think of our grandfather… My name is Atlas Burke, and this is my brother Castor." Atlas said, before gesturing to his brother, who just waved at him.

"Nice to meet you… I'm Warren… Why doesn't your brother speak?" Warren said as he voiced his question.

"Oh… Castor is mute… We don't know why, but we're guessing it's something similar to being a squib. He has better magic than I do… he just can't talk." Atlas said in a sad tone, as his brother just waved it off, before conjuring a parchment and quill. He then wrote a quick message on it, in a dot-like language Warren didn't understand, and handed it to Atlas, who translated it for Warren.

 **"Castor says hello."**

* * *

 **The Great Hall, Hogwarts.**  
 **(Warren's Second Year.)**  
 **(November 12th, 1981)**

* * *

 **"Have you heard what happened?"** Warren asked Castor, as he sat down at the Hufflepuff table. The silent boy just shook his head, and leaned closer.

The three boys had been disappointed in their first year, as both Warren and Castor were sorted into the house of the Badgers, while Atlas had joined the house of Lions. Though they had been sad at first, Atlas had found the time to spend with them, either at breakfast, or dinner. Either than that, the three didn't see each other besides a passing glance, or a short amount in their shared classes.

"Apparently Dumbledore killed that dark lord, Potter, though they're trying to keep it under wraps. Don't know why though, but everybody is talking about it." Warren told the mute, who just scratched his head at the thought. Warren didn't know why the Headmaster would hide the fact, and neither did Castor. If Warren had killed a dark lord, he wouldn't keep it a secret, he'd tell the world.

Castor tilted his head, as he thought about it, before writing a quick note on his parchment pad. Once he finished it, he cast a quick spell at it, and held it up to his friend.  
The letters began to glow like lit flames, and a voice read out the words.

I have no idea. I wouldn't ask him though. I don't trust him, there's something wrong about him…

"Since when can you do that?" Warren asked, as Castor had never used that ability before. Castor merely sent a Poking Hex at his brother, who let out a huff and walked over to them.

"What is it now Castor…?" The Gryffindor asked, but more in a exhausted voice, then a angry one. When his brother sent him a questioning look, he answered him.

"Quidditch training. They needed a Chaser, so I've been practicing… "

Castor nodded at this, before pointing towards Warren, who got the hint and re-asked his question about the spell to the Burke brother that could speak.

"Oh, that was father. As he helps to run Borgin and Burke's, he thought up the idea of enchanted parchment that reads out words for blind people, but also works with anything that is written down." Atlas explained to the dark brunette, before drawing a number on the magical pad, and having the pad read it out.

After a few minutes of the three talking, lunch ended, and the three split to got to their respective classes. All the while, they met **up with their own groups of friends.**

* * *

 **Hogwarts Dungeons, Hogwarts.**  
 **(Warren's Third Year.)**  
 **(1982)**

* * *

 **"Hey At, I heard something about Jarvis from one of the Puffs… His father's abusive?"** William 'Bill' Weasley asked the talkative Burke child, as they walked to their shared class. Atlas Burke merely looked at his mutual friend, and kept walking. "His name is just Warren, Jarvis isn't his last name."

Bill just looked at him in curiosity, and nudged him with his eyes to continue. They ignored the passing students, who seemed to be interested in the possible truth behind the quiet, genius Hufflepuff. Many of the Lions had at one point met Warren, and wondered what caused the teen to be the way he was. When they saw that Atlas wasn't willing to disclose the information so easily, they just tuned out the two.

"He was adopted… He hates his 'father' and wants nothing to do with the man, including his name."  
Bill looked sad at this, and felt sympathy. He had never experienced family problems, as his was overly affectionate.

"That's… I hope things clear up for him. No one deserves to live with someone that causes that much hate."

"I'm sure that things will get easier for him, especially after we all graduate. I plan on becoming an Auror myself, so if nothing else happens, I'm paying his father a visit… " Atlas muttered, as they finally reached the potions room, and encountered the hard glare of Severus Snape, the potions teacher. The man was notorious for his actions towards Gryffindors, though he learned from Castor that the Slytherin Head was actually much tamer than he let on. Apparently it was all just a show, which both made Atlas angry… and impressed. Snape put a large amount of work into his seemingly unneeded actions, though Atlas guessed there was a distinct reason behind it. After accepting that he may never know, Atlas got to work on reading his textbook.  
 **There must be something in here...**

* * *

 **Headmaster's Office, Hogwarts.**  
 **(1982)**

* * *

 **"You asked to see me Headmaster..."** Warren asked the old man, who only waved him in. warren had been irritated at having to all way up the circular staircase to reach the office, and that caused the sharp tone he had, which Dumbledore didn't notice at all.

"Yes my boy, I heard from some students that you had some trouble with your father, that can't be true, can it?" The old fool asked, which would have made Warren laugh... if his vision hadn't been clouded red. He was out for blood.

"THAT MAN IS NOT MY FATHER! That man killed innocent people right before my eyes! That can never be forgiven!" Warren screamed in response, his raw magic whipping across the room, tearing the furniture apart, and throwing it all around the room.  
Dumbledore was surprised by the magnitude of his ability, but quickly tried to handle the situation.  
"Now... I'm sure it was just a misunderstanding. Perhaps he-" Dumbledore tried to say, but was stopped, as Warren's magic blasted a hole under feet, causing the boy to fall into an unused part of Hogwarts.  
That was the first time Dumbledore "Grandfather" act failed to work on one of his pawns.  
He should have quit there, but he didn't.  
The next time he tried, **his 'pawn' would take his life.**

* * *

 **Unknown Location.**  
 **(Midnight, Friday, December. 1989)**

* * *

 **Wendell Howle was the worst kind of man.**

Wendell was a murderer, a thief, a rapist, a liar, and a sociopath.  
He acted without care, and did what he liked.  
On a Monday, he'd kill a man.  
On a Tuesday, he'd steal from those who lived on what small amount they had.  
On a Wednesday, he'd take a woman.  
On a Thursday, he'd lie to get whatever he wanted. Money, food, the lives of others. If he wanted it, he'd convince them to give it to him.  
And on a Friday, he'd lose his mind, and let his inner demons out.

Today... was a Friday.

He had gathered his weapons, and set out during the night to find whatever he wanted.  
He wanted blood.

Under the harsh darkness of midnight, he had found the couple outside their car. They were both teenagers, who might have snuck off on a date. He didn't care truly for their situation. He had no care for the soon to be dead.  
He had blasted the man's right arm off, before knowing a sword through his left eye. The young man slumped onto their car, cracking the windshield with his skull.  
The girl began to scream, only for Wendell to cast a silencing charm on her, and knocking her out with a punch to the face.

After his work was finished so far, he heard footsteps behind him, and he spun quickly around to face the stranger.

There stood a man, maybe half his age, who stared at him in anger.  
The stranger had dark brown hair, which was trimmed neatly to his head. His shimmering blue eyes shone in their sockets, almost glowing. He wore what Wendell recognized as a Auror's uniform, but was strangely silver. which gave him the idea that the man wasn't your average Auror.

"Who the hell are you…?" Wendell asked, aiming his wand at the stranger's face. Instead of acting scared, the man just stared at him in hatred.

"My name is Warren, and I'm your son. Burn in hell." Warren Jarvis said, before sending a Reducto at his father's head with a quick flick of his bronze wand.  
Warren marveled in enjoyment, as he watched his father fall to the concrete with a satisfying crunch. "Happy Christmas jackass."

Warren made quick of covering the man's body with a conjured cloth, and enervating the woman. "What…?" She sputtered, as the strange man helped her to her feet. She cast a quick look at the other man's dead body, and let out a sob at the sight of her date.

Warren had her sit back on the hood of the car, before pulling a cellphone from his coat pocket. While most wizards were behind the times with technology, he WAS a halfblood after all.

"Salvador, it's Badger. I got a body, and a muggle. They were attacked by a missing Lord… Lord Howle… Yeah, I know. Just send a unit out here, and say someone else found em. Tell them to go in Mundane clothing. Badger out." Warren said, before turning back to the girl.

"Listen, I have some people coming out to help. I'm an officer, trust me." He quickly told her in Welsh, and gave her a strained smile.

The girl nodded at this, and scooted farther away from the bodies.

Job done, Warren walked away from the past, and apparated away to headquarters. He left that part of his life behind.

 **Never to return to it.**

* * *

 **Did you enjoy? Hope you did.**

Sorry again for the wait, my college is starting back, and I'm getting kind of sick again.

Which sucks ass.

Anyway, I've got to go now, need to get some sleep.

Goodbye, have a good night/morning.

 **-DTS.**


	7. The New Blood: Enemy of Mine

**Tales Of Black Britain.**  
 **Episode 2: The New Blood**

* * *

 **A.N**

* * *

 **I'm back now…. Hello there…**

First things first, college fucking sucks. I know, shocker.  
Like I said, I'm back now, but I don't think I'll be back for long. My friends are making up for my absence, so I have to thank them for that.  
Darin's offering to start another story if we need something to fill the space on our channel, which seems cool. It's going to be a crossover with Infamous, which I've only played the newest game in the series. Second Son is a good game by the way, get it if you haven't. Not a sponsor.

Anyway, we're back with Warren, and I'm showing the end of Warren's hogwarts years.  
There will be some dark moments, which will continue with the next chapter, where he'll join the New Bloods.  
Hope you all enjoy it.  
I will write and upload when I can.  
 **-The Dark Tipped Snake**

* * *

 **R &R**

* * *

 **Chapter Two: Enemy of Mine**

* * *

 **Hogwarts, Scotland**

 **(1983)**

* * *

 **"Mister J-Warren, I would like to talk to you about your actions against my house."** Severus Snape asked the student before him.  
Warren had been called into Snape's office not long after lunch, as he had 'attacked' a group of Slytherins earlier in the day.

The three older boys had cornered him on the way to breakfast, and had attempted to beat him up under a stairway… only for him to throw each of them over his shoulder, right down the flight of stairs… going down two stories.

After much later in the day, he learned that the boys had gotten to the clinic, and had placed him to blame for the entire situation.  
He now was stuck inside Detention with the man before him, who wanted to know the truth behind the incident.

"I defended myself." Warren answered simply, as he leaned back inside the desk chair. Snape slightly rolled his eyes at this, and continued the interrogation.

"Your attackers were thrown down two floors, and had multiple broken bones…"

"It's not my fault they underestimated me." Warren stated, staring at the man with a hard look on his face. Snape returned the look, and decided that he wouldn't get much farther with the boy.

"Just… just go back to your dorm Warren." Snape muttered in a defeated tone, waving the boy out of his office.

 **"With pleasure sir."**

* * *

 **(1985)**  
 **Hufflepuff Vs Slytherin Match.**  
 **(Warren's fifth year.)**

* * *

 **"So Jarvis, it's time… Prepared to get pummeled?"** Vincent Kaplan, the Slytherin team's Captain and roughest Beater asked Warren as they both stood off against each other at the center field. They reluctantly shook hands as tradition, though neither enjoyed it.

"I won't be. You'll be following the Chasers and Seeker… wouldn't you Kaplan?" Warren asked his rival, as he knew that Vincent would still end up going after him. A keeper's job was tough.

"Sure Jarvis… I'll be following your puffs all across this field. Make sure you keep your eyes open Jarvis… " Vincent said with a cruel smirk, before walking over to his team, who all looked smug. They were confident they would win.

Warren walked past to his, and stopped in front of them.  
He gave them the usual speech, but threw in a hidden nod at Castor, who returned the gesture. The two had thought up a plan prior to the match, a plan only they knew, so no one else could screw it up.  
As Keeper, Warren would be stuck by the hoop, but he could still be useful.  
Castor, was the team's seeker, and was well versed in the plan. They knew Castor would need to get the snitch to win, so they decided to work together on it.  
To save time, Castor would focus only on the snitch when he found it, and just fly. Occasionally, he'd flash a look at Warren, who would hold up a certain finger to show who was following him.  
Finger one, was the Slytherin Seeker, two and three being the normal Beaters, with four being Kaplan.

Warren mainly kept busy during the match, as Chasers repeatedly tried to score on him, but anyone could tell you Warren was good. Not a single quaffle found it's way anywhere near him, as he kept moving the entire time, kicking and smacking them away from him.

Their plan worked fairly well through the match, but it wasn't long until the Snitch showed it's face.  
Castor shot off after it, speeding through the sky after the golden ball, ignoring everything around him.

A few minutes in his flight, he flashed a look at Warren, and got a one, and four in response.

Knowing that Kaplan would be gearing for him, Castor kicked it up, and neared even closer to the ball, which seemed resistant to his touch.

Hufflepuff was getting ground into the dust, as usual, until a little bit of beaten magic found it's way into the match.

For the first time, Castor Burke grabbed the snitch, and held it up high in surprise and joy.

Then, Warren's blood heated up to an extreme.

The match was already declared over, but Vincent Kaplan had to go a bit farther, as that was who he was. He was that one person that wouldn't stop, ever.  
Within a few seconds of their victory, Castor was knocked off his broom with a stiff knock to the head by the metal beater's bat. The entire crowd blew up at this, but the one person the most angry was Warren.  
Within seconds, Warren had flown over to his friend's defense, and swiftly flew to his level.  
Within a few seconds of the ground, he caught the youngest Burke, and slung him onto the back of his broom.  
He immediately brought them to ground, and called the staff over to help his friend.

After seeing that Castor was okay, Warren jumped back on his broom, and zoomed after the vicious beater.

To the surprise of everyone, including Kaplan, Warren smashed his gloved fist into Kaplan's face. Kaplan then fell of his own broom, his broken nose going with him as well.

To prove his difference from his enemy, Warren grabbed the boy's arm, hovered them down to the ground, and dropped the bully from midair to fall to the grass.

With that, Warren joined his silent team, and went back their dorm to celebrate.  
That was the first time Hufflepuff had won while he was on the team, **and it definitely wasn't the last.**

* * *

 **Headmaster's Office, Hogwarts**

 **(1986)**  
 **(Warren's sixth year.)**

* * *

 **"Mister Jarvis-"** Warren twitched. "Why must you insist on being violent with your classmates?"

Warren just stared at the man, that thought he knew best. If there must be a list of people Warren hated, he knew who would be number two.  
Albus Dumbledore was a man that Warren knew would face the facts one day, that men like him wouldn't live a good live. He knew it wouldn't be himself that would prove that to the old bastard, but he could do something.

"Sir, I plan on being an Auror, and I don't think they catch criminals be being friendly, now do they?" Warren asked sarcastically, as he grinned a rare twisted grin. After a day of dealing with Kaplan's crap, this was the icing on Warren's cake. He was waiting for something like this.

"Yes, but you aren't one yet. You can't just go around hurting people. It isn't fair to them, considering your strength…"

"Then they shouldn't come looking for a fight. They try their bullying shit, so I beat the fuck out of them. What else did you expect me to do? Come to you with the problem? I'd just be doing the same thing I'm doing now, listening to you whine." Warren stated, staring the older man down, and keeping a firm grasp on his own mind. He knew just what the bearded bastard's 'twinkle' was.

"Mister Ja-"

"That's not my fucking name asshole! I'm just Warren, that's it. I'm done here…." Warren yelled, charging from the room, and down the spiral staircase. He only smiled once he left the room.

He had left Dumbledore a little present he had gotten from one of the 'claws. A Raven bomb. A small little orb, that takes whatever it's attached to, and breaks it to pieces and blasts it to kingdom come…

And he had attached it to Albus Dumbledore's desk.

 **Only a bunch of portraits heard the man's scream.**

* * *

 **London, Muggle Britain**

 **(1992)**  
 **(Aftermath to The Lord Goes To Court)**

* * *

 **As Warren sat down in his small flat,** having just escorted the Peverell Lord to court, he remembered the day he had been sent to just the same place, and what brought him there…

* * *

 **(Flashback.)**

 **Jarvis Estate, Wales.**  
 **(1988)**

* * *

 **"Guys, it's time. We are going to kill him, and I can't say what's going to come next…."** Warren Jarvis said solemnly to his sole friends, Castor and Atlas Burke. Both of the Burkes looked at him, and him a reassuring smile.  
"Most likely they'll throw us in Azkaban, but at least we'll be in the same area. Who knows? Maybe we'll be neighbors." Atlas said to lighten Warren's nerves, as Castor laughed at him.  
Knowing that his friends would back him up, Warren walked towards his childhood 'home', and blasted the door down with a Reducto. The front door shot forwards into splinters, and allowed them access into the house.

The three walked into the house, and headed for the main staircase, and at the top stood their target.  
Efraim Jarvis looked down at his adopted 'son' and his friends with contempt, and waited for them to join him on the second floor.

"Warren, I see you've come home early…. I knew you would come for me eventually… But I won't make this easy for you!" Efraim screamed out, as he slammed his foot down on the floor. To their conjoined shock, the entire second floor collapsed, causing the three teens and the madman to fall down in the wreckage. They didn't get a reprieve from the panic, as the ground floor fell as well from the weight of the entire house.  
The four wizards fell through the dangerous waste of the house, as wooden beams, furniture, and stone rained down at them.

When Warren reached the accursed basement, he fell atop the stone water boiler. (The Estate had once been owned by Muggles.) His back was the part of him that hit it, and he heard a large crack coming from his spine.

When the dust around him began to clear, he saw his friends both in similar conditions to him, but saw no sign of his 'father'.

Atlas had landed atop the old table Efraim would use to tie down muggleborns, and had broken the table in the process. His brother had been slightly more fortunate, as he had fallen on the old blood-stained sofa that sat not far from him.

Atlas seemed to have passed out, while Castor was fully awake, but was smart enough to act unconscious.

Warren tried to move, but wicked fire surged through his body, giving him the idea that his back was broken. He heard footsteps then, and he saw to his left, his 'father.'

Efraim Jarvis stood to the left of Warren, and had his Oak wand in hand.  
He aimed it straight at Warren, and a green light glowed on the tip.

"After all I have done for you, you come to kill me… I only guess it's fair." Efraim began, his face in a dark grimace. "But, I shall not let you take my life easily, or fairly. I shall hurt you twice, one by taking a friend of your's… "

At this, Warren watched defenseless, as Efraim shot a Killing curse at Atlas.  
The life left the older Burke brother, as Warren lost a dear friend, and only silence remained in the Burke family.

"Why?" Warren asked the older man, as he turned back to him. Efraim seemed to have a single moment of sanity, as he answered the boy he had raised, albeit poorly.

"Because, you must face loss to grow. Great men are forged in fire… I'm just lighting the match."

With that, Efraim raised his wand to his heart, and muttered two words.

Warren sat inside the dark basement, back broken, mind and body hurt.  
He had both his friend and his revenge stolen from him, leaving him cold and angry.

But… there was nothing he could do.

When morning came, Castor dragged him out of the manor, and sent the Aurors to the estate for his brother's body.

It was the morning after that, that Warren swore to never let a man have so much power over another.

Not long after that, Warren and Castor were ordered to the Wizengamot court, and trialed for the 'murder' of Efraim Jarvis.

It was only the assistance of a man named Salvador that kept them from Azkaban.

That one court meeting, **changed Warren's life.**

* * *

 **Did you enjoy? I hope you did.**  
Warren's Hogwarts years are over, along with his childhood. Castor Burke is now alone in the world, his only friend left being Warren.  
Truthfully, I based the death of one of the brothers, off of the death of Fred Weasley. The reason, was that George and Castor both were unprepared to be alone, as they both depended so much on their twin brothers.  
Warren will join the New Bloods in the next chapter, but Castor won't. Castor will be playing a part in the upcoming Warren chapters, and perhaps in the main series as well.  
I will upload a new chapter when I can.  
Well, I'll talk to you all later on.  
Goodbye, and have a nice night.  
 **-DTS**


	8. The New Blood: Blood Transfusion

**Tales Of Black Britain.**  
 **Episode 2: The New Blood**

* * *

 **A.N**

* * *

 **Hello everyone,** I'm back finally with another chapter of New Blood.  
This will cover some parts of Warren's years at the New Bloods, and his introduction into their ranks, as well his his advancement among them.  
I will also show his lead up to The Lord Comes to Court, and what he was doing during the time.  
I'll also be setting up the finale of his episode, which will be great.  
Well, read on…

 **-The Dark Tipped Snake**

* * *

 **R &R**

* * *

 **Chapter Three: Blood Transfusion**

* * *

 **A random cafe, London, Muggle Britain**

 **(November 13th, 1988)**

* * *

 **It was on a brisk morning,** that Warren Ellis Jarvis found himself sitting inside a booth, in some random muggle cafe he had never heard of.  
He had traveled there, as he was meeting the man that had kept himself and Castor out of Azkaban for the 'murder' of a pureblood lord.

Castor was with his remaining family, mourning the loss of Atlas, so Warren left him to it. He could understand his loss, as Atlas was a great friend, but nothing close to a brother. Warren had no idea what he would have done, if he had lost family like that, and been able to stop it…

He had met the man, Salvador, right before their trial. The tanned, bearded man in silver had stopped them before their trial, walked in with them, and said they were innocent.  
They left not even a minute after that… Warren had no idea how a single man could have so much control over the Wizengamot, but Salvador did.

It took an hour for the man to arrive at the cafe, where he then joined Warren in the farthest booth.  
Salvador ordered a simple drink, and a sandwich, before turning to Warren. Warren expected Salvador to began to speak, but he just studied his face.

"You know… you are very much like I was… years ago." Salvador said in a sad-like tone, while looking at Warren like he was a lost memory. "Young, angry, eager to lash out at the world for the monsters inside it… I know how you feel."

"How?" Warren simply asked, as he wanted to know why this man had the right to talk to him like this, even if he had saved him.

"I became an orphan at four, as my mother and father were captured and killed by the dark lord Grindelwald… I was a mere child, lost in the heart of Moscow… I made my way to the Russian Ministry, how… I do not know, but I did. I was raised by one of the top members of their wizarding government, though it was not a childhood. My 'mother' was only interested in her work, and how I could fit into it. I left as soon as I could." Salvador said in a thick voice, his eyes glazing over slightly, as he temporarily lost himself in a distant memory. After a few moments of shared silence, Salvador once more began speaking to the youth.

"At the rate you are going, the Wizengamot will eat you alive, and freeze your entrails in Azkaban… I will not save you again if you continue on the wrong path… but I will give you a chance." Salvador said to him in a serious tone, his eyes showing that he was not kidding a single bit, and that Warren must pay absolute attention.

"I am the leader of a group of individuals hiding inside the British Ministry, a group of good people. I would like you to join us." He said in a hopeful but not weak tone to him, revealing that he didn't need him, but wanted him.

"What is the name of your 'group'." Warren asked, slightly curious about this group, as he never thought one could hide inside the ministry. He also wanted that same kind of power over the Wizengamot.

 **"We call ourselves, the New Bloods."**

* * *

 **Waterford, Ireland, United Kingdom**

 **(October, 1988)**

* * *

 **Warren Jarvis, junior member** of the "Transfusion Division" of the New Bloods, stood inside an alleyway.  
Across the hard street, was a quiet pub sitting on the corner.  
The silence of the night, was only interrupted by the low music of the pub's radio, and some of the drunken fools vomiting outdoors.  
The reason he was there, was that a fat, lard head pureblood had decided to get himself a drink, and kill muggles.  
Warren was there, on his first official mission, to put a stop to that.

He had decided to go stealth with his first mission, to show he could to his superiors, who he knew would be watching.  
He approached one of the passed out drunkards, and dragged them into his alley.  
A few minutes later, a newly clothed, foul smelling (To his discomfort) Warren Jarvis stepped out.  
He made his way to the small pub, putting on a slight stagger to appear incompetent. He even began to mutter words to himself, just to put that extra touch. No one could say he wasn't an overachiever.

He pushed his way through the sick drunks, and into the over-crowded pub, which was filled with the thick stench of alcohol. Over the years, Warren had only drank inside a bar once, and he didn't really think he needed to again.

He scanned his eyes over the room, and quickly caught sight of the boulder of a man. Quinton Goyle, a supposedly 'refined' lord of the Wizengamot court… was drowning himself in muggle liquor, and slowly getting annoyed by the regular occupants of the bar.

Upon seeing a man challenge Goyle over his next jug of whisky, Warren made his way over quickly, and decided to finish the man off.

Breaking his cover, he quickly ran to the man, and roughly clamped the man's throat to the side. Goyle crumpled forwards onto the ground, the pressure point inside his neck flared, and he was pushed into darkness.

Ignoring the bustle from the alerted drunkards, Warren dragged the man out of the pub, and into the dark street.

Warren had succeeded in his first mission, to babysit a fat idiot… He would have loved an assassination first, but… you have to start somewhere.

He waited an hour inside the alley, sitting atop the unconscious ball of fat. Eventually, his evacuation came, that being his superior, Darwin Cornell showing up inside a plain black van.

Cornell pulled up to the alley, and parked, waiting for him. Warren stood, and began to carry the useless man to the van, before throwing the man inside.

Job completely done, Warren made his way to the passenger seat of the vehicle, and got in.

"So, how was your first taste?" Cornell asked him with a grin, knowing how it was, as they had been watching. They always watched the newbies.

"I think I need another, just to make sure… " Warren answered, hoping that his next mission would be a little better, hopefully even exciting.

"Well, you're a little lucky. I just got a call, there's some clown in London causing trouble."

"What's his name?"

"He's supposed to be a celebrity or something, Gilderoy Lockhart. Use of memory charms, and suspected rape charges. Teach him a lesson not to abuse power, but don't kill him. We'll drop him off naked somewhere after, to make him learn humility. Probably erase his memory of you as well." Cornell told him, putting emphasis on the no-kill order, which complicated him slightly.

Warren could make due though, and he could get it done anyway.  
No matter what the mission was, he could always get his target He could become a drunk, a fan, a shopkeeper, anyone.  
He could be anywhere, anytime, and that is why he was going to **be the best operative in the New Bloods.**

* * *

 **The roof of Warren's flat, London, Muggle Britain (December 31st, 1992)**  
 **(New Year's.)**

* * *

 **Warren Jarvis was attempting to enjoy the new year.**

He was sitting on the edge of the roof, looking across the city of London, while watching Big Ben tick away towards midnight.  
His closest friends inside the New Bloods, Darwin and Stephanie Adams were sitting by him, enjoying some muggle whisky that they shared.

Warren had dropped by the main Ministry, to see Castor, but was slightly depressed. While Castor had recovered slightly from his brother and mother's deaths, he wasn't the same person he used to be… He had given a small gift, just to be polite, with Salvador, his oldest friend in the New Bloods.

As he looked at his newest friends, he remembered how he met them.  
Darwin had originally just been his evacuation support, but when he had been promoted to the Antibody Force, they had become partners. Over the four years they worked together, they solved many cases the aurors wouldn't, both magical and muggle. They also kept several of the Ministry and pure bloods in line, though no one remembered them.  
He had met Stephanie in his third year of being of being an Antibody, after the New Bloods took a hit. The Antibodies had been assigned on a mission, to assassinate the Russian Minister of Magic.

Salvador himself joined them on the mission, as he had known the minister years before.  
They had quickly traveled to Magical Moscow, where the Russian Ministry had been located, only to find themselves in a trap.  
They had discovered something that day… there was a spy in their midst.  
The spy had been Colton Hughes, one of their top operatives, who Warren himself killed... brutally, and mercilessly.

He was a Hufflepuff, and he didn't like traitors...

Most of the Antibodies had been killed that day, only Warren, Darwin, Salvador, and two others had survived.

After they had returned to London, they had made quick work of promoting new recruits from the Transfusion Division, and transferring operations from the New Bloods in the States.

Stephanie Adams had been one of the transfers, and had quickly joined Warren and Darwin in their daily missions, and the three had formed a team of sorts. Occasionally they would work with other Antibodies, but it was mainly them.

The three were enjoying their drinks in silence, when Warren's phone went off. He held a finger up to his friends, and answered the call.

"Badger answering, what do you say?" Warren spoke in code, though he didn't really want a mission right now, especially on New Years. He wanted a holiday for once, he could kill someone later.  
He was wondering what Salvador wanted though...

"Ursine speaking. The British Specials are meeting, and we need to help the boy lord Pottering." Salvador spoke back in code, telling him what he needed to know. The "British Specials" were the code they all used for the British Wizengamot, and apparently they were throwing an improv meeting. Of course, he knew about the young lord, Potter or Peverell. He had known the boy's father as well, as his father was rather infamous…

"Badger asking, where is the Pottering at?" Warren asked, wanting to know where he would have to go to find the boy, as he figured he'd have to bring the boy there.

"The Pottering is going on at the Mangos, but is frozen." Salvador reported, informing him exactly where the boy was at. It took Warren a second to decode the message, but he remembered the old terms. Mangos, was their code-name for Saint Mungo's, while 'frozen' was the name they gave when something couldn't be moved. Warren assumed the boy was either in critical condition, or was trapped, so he figured he'd need to be stealthy to break him out.

"Ursine speaking, the clock is running, got to get going. Goodbye." Salvador said, before quickly hanging up, leaving Warren with his mission. Warren attached his phone back to his belt, and stood up, and turned to his friends.

"Salvador has me going after the Potter heir, apparently the Wizengamot is up to something. I'm be back soon… " Warren said, pulling on his silver coat. and draining the remainder of his glass.

"Have fun with Potter, I'm sure he'll be a blast." Stephanie said with a sarcastic smirk, as she poured herself more alcohol. Darwin just chuckled at Warren's misfortune, and turned to him with a grin.

"Well, go on mate. Go and get Potter, just make sure you get back before midnight. Here, take one for the road." Darwin said, passing him one of the few bottles left, and giving him a pat on the shoulder.

It was never easy dealing with a Potter, **and all of them knew that.**

* * *

 **Nagoya, Japan**

 **(July 17th, 1993)**

* * *

 **Warren Jarvis was on a 'special' assignment.**

He had received an order by Salvador to accompany some of the Transfusion members, and two of the Antigens for the mission.  
He hadn't been told what the mission consisted of, as only the Antigens had been told… which worried him slightly.  
He could tell it was some sort of covert mission, as they were taking measures they almost never did. They were layering notice-me-not and misdirection charms on themselves, along with almost every single stealth-related spell they knew.

They had portkeyed to Japan quickly, and had traveled to Nagoya the muggle way, by truck and walking through the thick city.

They mainly stayed hidden among the crowds of the city, as they neared their target location, some little village.  
The Antigens had told him that the village was letting off weird energy, which was making them curious.  
From what they could tell, the locals didn't know about the village's existence, and the only reason they knew it was a village, is that they found some old journal archive.  
The archive mentioned a village in the location that the energy was coming from, so they figured that the mythical village and the hidden place were one and the same.

It had taken them an hour to reach the edge of Nagoya, and had spent half an hour of work busting through a strange field of energy that had blocked their path into the village.

After the magical walls around them collapsed, a small ancient village came into vision. They stepped forwards carefully, as they expected hostiles, or other civilians.  
Warren was being extremely cautious in his movements, as he didn't know whether this was an information mission, or an assassination order.

The group advanced farther into the village, watching for anything, though they saw nothing… Warren felt eyes looking at him, which made him unnerved, and put him on edge.

At the center of the village, stood a tall pointed building, that looked older than the rest of the entire village. They figured this would be the source of the energy, so they approached slowly, and carefully.

Once they reached the front, they took sides on the doors, and prepared themselves. On the call of the Antigen Leader, Warren and the top Transfusion took the immediate points on the entrance.  
The Antigen Leader then took them on a by-three countdown, where they readied themselves.  
On three, Warren and the Transfusion kicked the doors in, and the group swarmed into the building.

The building stood empty before them, as silence greeted them. The building was built and formed together with classic wood and brick fastenings. Marbles statues of different animals and monsters lined the main staircase, and was what most of the building was decorated with.

At the forefront of the room, were five large statues. Each was of a different creature, and color. The first to the left, was of a large dragon, made of a blue-stained wood. To it's right, was a statue of a large bird that was made of a ruby-like material. The next one, was a silver tiger, that was surprisingly made of an early type of metal that gave off a strange sense of heat.

The next, was a statue of a large tortoise, that was made of what seemed to be a black stone similar to obsidian. They made sure to avoid the statute, as it was giving of a frightening cold feeling. The last statue, was the largest. It was of a large wolf-like creature, that was formed out of white marble. It was also the most detailed of the lot, as there were several blue-tinted lighting bolts streaking across it's frame.

While the group was surveying the statues, they didn't hear the footsteps behind them until the last second… They turned quickly with their wands ready, and were faced with four figures.  
They all wore robes, but of a foreign, ancient Japanese variety. They each wore a different color. Blue, red, grey, and black…

Before Warren or any of the group could get off a single spell, the four figures erupted into spirit-like animals, and roared towards them.

 **Warren didn't have a single chance…**

* * *

 **Did you enjoy? Leave a review if you please. :)**

On the state of where Warren is currently, you should know if you've read Last Yokai. I will cover his time there in his last chapter, and I'm sure Ryan will take Warren from there, and incorporate him into the story. I do think that Warren can be a really good character, and I would love to do more with him.  
I will end Warren's arc in a good way, and as tradition, will leave a preview of the next episode.  
I promise the next episode will be exciting and good, just as (I hope you thought it was.) good as these two.  
In case anyone cared to know, Warren joined the New Bloods at age 19. In Last Yokai, he is 24.

Well, goodbye for now.

I hope all of you have a nice day, wherever you might be.  
 **-DTS**


	9. The New Blood: Heart Attack

**Tales Of Black Britain.**  
 **Episode 2: The New Blood**

* * *

 **A.N**

* * *

 **Well, this is the last chapter of "The New Blood."**

Just like last time, I will be giving you all a taste of the next episode, and reveal it's protagonist. I don't think anyone guessed them, if you thought about it that is, as they aren't a very huge character.

Anyway, this chapter here, will be the puzzle piece that ties in with Last Yokai, and will give a tiny look at the escape of Hadrian and co. The look won't be very detailed, as it'll be from Warren's perspective, and not Hadrian's.

I hope to do something with Warren in the future, as he's kind of my favorite OC of mine, and I think he's capable of doing so much more in Black Britain.

Well, that's it for now.

Read on, and enjoy.  
 **-The Dark Tipped Snake**

* * *

 **R &R**

* * *

 **Episode End: Heart Attack**

* * *

 **Dungeons, Fakushion Base, The Forsaken Village, Japan**

 **(August 15th, 1993)**

* * *

 **Pain. Hot, searing, cold, and electrifying at the same time.**

Warren Ellis Jarvis awoke in the icy darkness, and felt absolute agony. His limbs were frozen like ice, while his body burned hot, like he had bathed in the orange sun. He was sprawled in a gloomy corner, of a shadowy room, that brought back memories of the torture chamber in his… that old house.  
He figured out what had happened then, he was being held prisoner.

After he focused a little bit, he was able to look over the details of his body. Judging by the fact that he was vastly skinnier than he had been when he was captured, he guessed that he had been comatose… But for how long? He thought to himself, as his mouth was bone dry. He could barely speak, as his throat felt that rough.  
He attempted to move himself towards where he assumed a door was, but only managed to collapse against one of the walls.  
As he still felt deathly weak, he stayed and rested there… until he heard something.

There was a tapping sound coming from the wall, but it wasn't normal.  
He could tell there was a pattern to it, a rhythm.  
He sat and thought about it for a little while, and then remembered something.  
Castor had once tried out a new technique for about a week…  
Morse Code.

He quickly strained himself to focus on the taps, and translate it to words.  
He only got one sentence, before the person on the other side stopped tapping.  
 _ **Byakko, he's in, we leave tonight.**_

* * *

 **"W-what t-the h-hell's go-ing on?"** Warren sputtered out, as a shockwave of energy vibrated off of the walls of the dungeon, the building shaking as well.

He struggled to his feet, despite the shock that had knocked him off his feet. He focused his blurred vision then, and made his way to the wall that once held a door, while listening for anymore tapping. He hoped that his 'pen-pal' would be there, tapping off a message meant for someone else.

Once he reached the far wall, Warren was shocked to find the door he had only seen once, had returned.  
Knowing that he most likely would not see that door again, he made a quick decision, and bashed his weak body against the door.  
His body exploded with pain, as his starved and weak body throbbed from the pain of hitting the metal door.  
He knew he couldn't rest, so he threw himself once more at the door, only to reach the same effect.

After his second attempt did nothing, Warren sank to the floor, and whimpered slightly. He began to fall into a deeper sense of despair, more than he had ever been in.

"It isn't fair!" Warren screamed out suddenly, as he bashed his bruised and bleeding fist against the stone door, only for it to come back even more injured. After almost an hour, he had started to doze off… only to fall backwards onto the hard, unforgivable floor.

He looked up, and saw one of the people that had captured his group, and imprisoned him in this hell. He studied the man's details, and saw it was the one cloaked in grey, and that he just looked down at him.

The man reached down, helped him up, and said something in Japanese that Warren didn't understand. When Warren didn't respond, the man nodded, and strained himself for a second.

"My… leader is failed. We… are escaping." The man said, as he led Warren into the hallway, only for Warren to trip once more. The man was quick then, and caught him. Warren was appreciative, as he was quickly picked back up to his shaky feet, and led to the end of the hallway. Warren then made his way up the short staircase at the end, and emerged into the main room he had last seen…

 _A month ago?_ He thought, as he looked around the room, and saw the strange damage that had been done to it. There were… slices through certain things, such as the walls, columns, and floors. Shockingly, blue electricity ran along the cuts, and made them glow brightly.

They made their made to the large front doors, which the other man kicked open. Warren stared out, and saw the utter destruction that lay before him. The ancient village lay in ruins, as trees and electricity hung over the place, making it look as if a forest had sprung up, and a thunderstorm had come to stay.

"W-what happened here?" Warren muttered, as he looked at the man, who stared out at the carnage, seemingly unphased by it.

 **"Revenge."**

* * *

 **The air above Heathrow Airport, Muggle Britain.**  
 **(The morning of August 17th, 1993)**

* * *

 **Warren was seated in a seat, inside of a plane, right across from Hadrian Potter.**

Warren had been taken immediately to an airport in Japan, after they had left the destroyed village.

The man, Byakko had found Hadrian Potter, who was trapped there as well, ( _What were the odds?_ ) and the two had traveled there.  
Now, Warren sat across from the boy he had defended in court, oh so long ago, but seemed so very different.  
He looked over the boy, and judging from the blood and filth coated on his clothing that matched his own, he knew they had both been prisoners. The boy's body had scratches and cuts across it, that Warren knew would become scars. Judging from the cold majority shown in the boy's eyes, Warren briefly wondered if Potter would be interested in joining the New Bloods, but had a question he wanted an answer to first.

"So… Potter, how did you end up with our… generous host?" Warren muttered, trying to break the silence that had filled the tight plane they had been on for almost a day.

"Kidnapped in the middle of Diagon… Got thrown into that Quidditch shop, and got a back full of glass." Hadrian answered, recalling how he had been captured. "You?" Warren sucked in a breath at that, as he now wondered over the fate of his group of operatives, who he had seen none of. He didn't think their survival was likely, as he heard nothing in the dungeons besides tapping at times, or when that short guy came to torture him.

"I went on a mission with some of my guys, and we got captured… What are they?" Warren asked, as he remembered how those four had changed… into ghost animals, or something similar.

"Yokai, Japanese monsters, they're the most powerful, as they are filled with the spirits of spectral beasts… You saw the statues?" Hadrian explained, as he finished with the question. Warren nodded, as he had indeed seen the strange statues of the beasts. He had one question though.

"How do you know this?"

 **"Because I'm the last one. I am the Raiju."**

* * *

 **Did you enjoy? Let me know!**  
This is the last chapter of Warren Ellis Jarvis' story arc, and we are moving forward, onto the next chapter. Warren most likely will appear in the actual Last Yokai story, as he does interact with Hadrian as they escape. Even though you see them leave here, Hadrian will be stuck there for at least two of his chapters. He still needs to unlock the Raiju, so that will take at least one chapter. I'm talking and working with Ryan closely on where the story will go, and most likely Last Yokai will end up slightly longer then we originally planned.

 **Well here's the sneak peek…. enjoy.**

* * *

 **Episode Three: The Wicked Dead**

* * *

 **The man didn't scream, as the undead began to choke him, but he was afraid.**

He looked towards capter with what seemed to be a look of pleading, as he expressed his wish for mercy over and over again. His capter would have none of it though, as he simply stepped closer, the undead ghoul bothering him none.  
After all, he was it's master.

"Now, tell me… what happened to Ronald Weasley?" The man asked, as he commanded the ghoul to lighten his grip, but still keep a hold of their 'guest.'

"T-they threw him into the Veil… he wasn't himself." Broderick Bode, unspeakable for the Department of Mystery muttered out, as he regained the ability to breath clearly.

"And who brought him to you?" The man asked, as he snapped once. The ghoul backhanded the captured operative, reminding him to speak truthfully. Bode was in the den of the enemy after all.

"Potter, bu-" Broderick began to cry out, only to be stopped in his tracks. After his answer had come, The man had snapped one last time, and Bode lost his head. Literally.

The man had, had enough, and allowed the ghoul to finish the pathetic unspeakable. He didn't have time for this, as there was work to be done.  
Potter would regret his actions dearly, and he would learn...  
 **No one messed with Zaen Braithmore…**

* * *

 **Coming soon… ;)**


	10. The Wicked Dead: Blame Me Not

**Tales Of Black Britain.**

* * *

 **Episode Three: The Wicked Dead**

* * *

 **A.N**

* * *

 **Welcome all of you.**  
This is the first chapter of Zaen Braithmore's episode, The Wicked Dead.  
In this first chapter, I will be detailing the origin of the individual known as Braithmore, and what led him onto the road to becoming a necromancer.  
Throughout his episode, I will be showing his perspective of Dead Man's Diary, a little bit of Last Yokai, and I will set up a mini-prequel to Book 4.  
I hope you enjoy chapter one, and I hope you're looking forward to the rest of this episode.  
I will also warn you all, this episode will most likely be a bit darker, as Zaen is a necromancer for Pete's sake. Killing, and bringing back dead people are his business.  
Besides that, enjoy, and read on.  
 **-The Dark Tipped Snake**

* * *

 **R &R**

* * *

 **Warning: Gore, but it's treated lightly. Necromancy.**

* * *

 **Chapter One: Blame Me Not**

* * *

 _ **Tell me, what truly makes a person evil? What makes one a monster?**_  
 _ **Could it be the murder of another? The enjoyment of a sense of bloodlust? The love of lives lost, and the black humor behind bringing back a victim, only to kill them once more? The thrill behind the kill, the hunt, and torture of another? Mindless violence spurred forward only by want or lust? The destruction of what it means to be human, in order to become more?**_  
 _ **Perhaps, but there have been many others in history, that have done worse than I, but are considered heroes.**_  
 _ **In my opinion, I am a hero, just not yours.**_

* * *

 **Bavaria, Germany**

 **(1852)**

* * *

 **If one was to question when a young man became the fiercest necromancer the world has ever seen, it would start in 1852.**

It had been then, on a rainy day, that young Zaen Curont Braithmore took shelter in a nearby library.  
The boy had been a near orphan, his father died the year before, and his mother was stricken with a mysterious illness. The boy only had but one thing to rely on, as help would come from no other place, only himself.

When a sudden storm had arrived, and began to strike the small town, Zaen had ran to the only unlocked building for shelter, that being the ancient library that stood in the center of the town.  
Once Zaen was safe from the pelting rain, he shrugged off his soaked, moth-bitten coat, and saw in a corner of the dark library.  
After shuddering in the darkness for close to an hour, the small boy began to hear a noise, the sound of sharp footsteps. He knew someone approached, so he squished himself farther into his corner, the people of the town didn't like him, or his family very much.

In the dim light of the library, Zaen saw a man approach the farthest wall. The man wore a black suit, the material like pressed fabric, which made Zaen jealous. His only clothing consisted of dirty, stained rags, while this man wore a fine suit.  
The man had a stern face, with thin lips, and what looked like short clippered hair.  
Zaen wondered what business the man had in the library, at this time of night, when he saw the man pull out a strange book from a shelf. Zaen had seen neither the man or the book before, so he was plagued with curiosity.

The book the man had chosen, was fairly large, and banded with a black cover. The edges were tipped with bronze, and a large lock was attached to the side of it.  
On the front, there was a picture of a grotesque face, and a long word above it. (Zaen couldn't make out what it was though.)

"Finally… I've found it… I must destroy it." The man muttered to himself, before pulling a small, glass bottle of green liquid from his coat pocket. Zaen did not know what came over him then, but he felt a sudden compulsion to stop the man, and save the strange book.

Zaen heard a small voice in the back of his skull, whispering to him, and egging him forward towards the man.

On his way, Zaen passed an old writer's desk, where he by instinct grabbed hold of a silver letter opener.

Before the man could uncork the glass bottle, Zaen surged forward, and sunk the sharp metal instrument into the man's thin skull.

The man let out a loud gasp, as he fell backwards, the bottle smashing into his face, as the green liquid poured out, and burned away viciously at his face. The man now had half his face missing, giving him the appearance of having two faces, one burnt, one fine. It began to eat away at his hair aswell, turning half it white, and leaving the other half fine.

Zaen ignored the man's final screams, as he walked to the strange book that he had risked his freedom for.  
He picked it up in his spindly arms, and was amazed, when the eyes on the face opened, and looked upon him.

The eyes stared at him for a time, sizing him up he assumed, then the old lock opened, and fell to the ground.  
Zaen felt a temptation then to open the mysterious book, and learn, but first searched out the name of his new acquisition. In silver letters, was one long word, that sent unknown chills through young Braithmore's body.

 **Necronomicon.**

The boy did not know the danger of the book, as he was just another innocent lost to it's charm.  
Forever to be blamed by the people of his world, **though he would come to deserve it.**

* * *

 **A small laboratory, underneath the streets of Berlin, Germany.**  
 **(1857)**

* * *

 **'Reeemmove the silllentt hheart, annd pierrce the leeffft eyyyye…'** A low, groan-like voice rattled out, as teen aged Zaen Braithmore followed it's instructions. He quickly cut the woman's heart free, sliced the veins apart, and threw the offending organ onto the metal table beside then. That done, Zaen then jammed his knife into the woman's blue left eye.

"I understand the heart, as it prevents the body from awakening before we are ready, but why must I stab the woman's eye?" Zaen asked the demonic book, as it quietly watched his progress from the frame it rested on, it's eyes staring at him intensely.

'The eeeyyee mustttn't wwatch, orr the sooouul turnns uppsett.' The Necronomicon groaned, as it's eyes turned towards his face. Zaen stopped his progress, and looked at the book in question.

"The soul turns upset? Don't you think 'becomes upset' would be a better phrase to use?" Zaen asked it, as the unholy book just narrowed it's small eyes at him.

'Jusst continnnue woorkkinng yoou fillllius caaaniss…' The book growled out, as Zaen began to work again, but cocking an eyebrow first.

"Are you Latin?" He asked, as he started to empty the carcass of it's organs, one by one. It wouldn't need them after he was done.

'Itt doesss noott maatterr. Reemmooove the frrracctuurre eeyyee, annd reetuurrnn itt mirrrorred.' The Necronomicon instructed. Zaen then pulled his knife free, dragging the eye with it. He carefully placed it back in the socket, but backwards.

"What next then, and what are we doing?" Zaen asked, as he finished removing the last lung from the woman's body. The book shook slightly then, as if it was nodding, and flicked open to a exact page, detailing the creation of a draugr.

"A bit norse don't you think?" Zaen asked, as he looked to the book, while leaning his elbows inside the empty chest of the corpse.

'Ittt willl dooo.'

"Alright then, let's see…" Zaen muttered, looking closely at aged, faded page, and grabbed his wand from his pocket. He had actually received the wand not long ago, from a very grateful wand-crafter. After Zaen had arrived in Berlin, he had found a man that wanted revenge on another man that killed his child… He had then sent four ghouls after the man, who brought back his head to the crafter. His yew wand came free.

With a quick twirl, Zaen stabbed his wand-tip through the woman's heart, and sent a quick warming charm inside it. (The book called for a "endless match" but Zaen had no idea where to get one.) The heart began to glow then, and radiate heat. Acting quickly. he shifted the heart back into the woman's gutted chest. He then began to heal the ripped veins and tendons together, reconnecting the woman's heart.

Seconds later, the heart began to beat, and the woman took a deep, guttural breath. At the opening of her eyes, Zaen grinned.

"Another job done, when is that pervert coming to get her?" Zaen asked the Necronomicon, which turned back to the cover.

' I bellleivvee thhhat hee issss ccommming att thee middpooinnt oof niiighht.' The book droned out, as Zaen groaned at it.

"Can't you speak any faster than that?" Zaen asked as he started to restrain the shaking, undead woman, who attempted to snap at his neck, only to get smacked by the back of his hand.

 **'Nooo.'**

* * *

 **Did you enjoy? Yes, I know it was short.**

I wanted to cover only what started him on the road to becoming who he is now, and a bit of what he does normally… In the next chapter, I will probably show a bit of him working with, or just meeting Grindelwald, and something else most likely. I threw in Lovecraft, as I am a big fan of his novels, and I love his entire lore behind his works.

I also needed an artifact that could begin Zaen's descent into the dark arts, and cause his slight bit of insanity. (There isn't much of it, but his best bud is kind of a book.)  
Well, I believe that's it for now.  
Have a nice night/day/morning, or whatever it is for all of you out there.  
 **-Oscar**


	11. The Wicked Dead: Victor and Igor

**Tales Of Black Britain.**

 **Episode Three: The Wicked Dead**

* * *

 **A.N**

* * *

 **Hey guys, here's the next chapter of The Wicked Dead.**  
This time, it's going to be Zaen Braithmore meeting Gellert Grindelwald, several decades later from where we left off.  
It features Zaen, now a fully-fledged necromancer, as opposed to the version of him we saw at the end of the last chapter, which was him as a rookie. He's experienced some of the darkest and most twisted parts of Necromancy, and lived to tell about it. (And he will)  
I will also be setting up some of the elements that will be featured in his episodes, and eventually in the main series as well. (But it won't be for a VERY LONG time.)  
Well, read and enjoy.  
 **-The Dark Tipped Snake**

* * *

 **R &R**

* * *

 **Chapter Two: Victor and** **Igor**

* * *

 **London, England**

 **(1896)**

* * *

 **Zaen Braithmore looked over the city of London, and laughed at the citizens.**  
He watched them, riding in their little stagecoaches and carts, them living life happily. He knew the kind of people that lay before him, happy, soulful, and enjoying the motions of life. He was waiting for people like them to die, as he couldn't wait to bring those fools back as the undead.  
He then decided to go for a light stroll through the city, just watching the pitiful efforts that those people made to keep going on, to keep living for one more day, one more breath.  
Oh, how he loved to see them struggle.  
He walked up to a small shop, one that sold flowers by the looks of it, and began to speak with a delightful young woman. It wasn't often that he was able to have a conversation with the other sex, and he began to chuckle when she flirted with him, and blushed at his comments.  
 _If only she knew I cut open dead people, and bring them back as unholy monsters for a living…_

He chuckled at that, and made an excuse to leave. The mental link was shaking, and he knew something was up. He walked out of the shop, and stepped into the nearest alley way. Once Zaen was sure that no one was watching or following him, he pulled the demonic book of the dead from his coat pocket.  
The Necronomicon opened it's eyes then, and shook slightly in his hand, before focusing on him closely.

"Necro, what's wrong now?" Zaen asked the book, as he leaned against the brick wall of the flower shop. He cringed when the book began it's prolonged speech, which made him shudder at it's boring tone.

"Thhhe ssspiritss spppeak ooff a ddaarrk onne nearr. Weee mussst finndd tthee fooorrtold onne, annd offfer ouur assssiiistance." The Necronomicon droned out in a dull voice, as Zaen cocked an eyebrow at the news of a 'dark one' which made him wonder what it could be.

"A dark one? You mean one of the Elders? How the hell did one get free?" Zaen asked, wondering if one of the Elder Gods had somehow returned to their universe, and wondered why he had not felt anything. He did wear the Locket of Huitloxopetl, so he should have received a vision of some kind if one had.

"Nooo, yyyooou foool, a loord oof thhee daarrkk." The book snapped, as it grew irritated with it's Guardian. If there was anything the Necronomicon regretted about the deal made between the two, was that they were stuck together… up until Zaen Braithmore dies… too bad being the Guardian of the Necronomicon made him ageless.

"Darkness doesn't a cult anymore, so… what are you talking about?" Zaen asked finally, as he looked at the small shadows throughout the alley, watching for the sign of a grey eye hidden in the blackness.

"FIINNDD TTTHHEE ONNE KNNOWN AASS GRRINDELWWALLD!" It screeched out, causing Zaen to stuff it once more inside his pocket, where the Index Charm caused it to be shifted into a pocket universe until he needed it.

 _Who needs cheap charms, when you have true witchcraft?_ Zaen thought, as he walked out of the alley at a quick pace.

 **"You only had to say 'Find Grindelwald…" He grumbled out, as he patted the lump in his coat.**

* * *

 **He had walked through the city of London,** asking people like a fool, if any had heard of one known as Grindelwald.  
Many had said they knew no one by the name of Grindelwald, when he heard a loud argument coming from a hidden wandcrafter's shop. He walked to the side of the slanted store, and heard a portion of the conversation, followed by a 'thumping' sound.

"HOW DARE YOU?! I am the dark lord!" A sound that Zaen assumed was Grindelwald yelled, before the foresaid thumping sound occurred.  
Zaen walked the front of the shop, and found a young man in noble clothing, seated on his back, as if he had been thrown from the shop forcefully.

 _Oh, this one is a weakling…_ Zaen thought to himself, before walking to the man, and giving him a hand up.

"T-thank you sir, my I enquire your name?" The man, Grindelwald asked as his eyes flashed in curiosity, as he had obviously never seen Zaen before. Zaen just grinned slightly, and answered.  
 **"Zaen Braithmore, Necromancer."**

* * *

 **(1901)**

* * *

 **"Necro, why must we help Grindelwald? He's a fucking pansy!"** Zaen complained to his book, as the two sat comfortably inside their 'lair', or stagecoach. (That they stole, and repainted.)  
The Necronomicon just shook lightly, and responded in a huff.  
"Thhhe weeeak loorrdd muussstt bbee heellppedd, fiinnd thhe wannnd ooff Ichaaboonn"

"The wand of Ichaboon? That's Death, right?" Zaen asked, recalling if his knowledge of the Great Ones was what it once was. He was currently forty-four, though the guardianship of the Necronomicon had slowed his aging process, as he still had the appearance of a young adult.

"ICHAABONN!" The Necronomicon yelled out, this time clearing up Zaen's question.  
"Oh, Ichabon. Why didn't you just say 'Ichabon' instead of 'ICHABOON'." Zaen asked, fixing the book with a stern, questioning look.

"YOUU FOOLL, II DIDD!" It yelled, as it shook violently in the chair opposite of him, only to fall face-first onto the padded floor.

"Why do you always yell at me? I can understand what you say, and besides… People can hear you, you know?" Zaen asked, as he realized that the Necronomicon did almost always yell at him. It kind of hurt, as the book had been the closest thing he had ever had to a friend.

"Brraithhmorree… I juusstt irraattee eeaasssilly…" The book muttered, at a surprisingly quick speed. Zaen nodded then, as that seemed to be the closest thing to an apology he would ever get from the proud, ancient book.

"Alright then, let's go raid the graveyard!" Zaen cheered darkly, as he picked the book up, who shook excitedly. That was about an average day for the two, which really pissed off the police officers that would come to investigate.  
 **Zaen was quite skilled in his trade, both in lies, and the Dead.**

* * *

 **"Ah, Zaen of Braithmore… Guardian of the Necronomicon… What brings you to my domain?"** A large, booming voice echoed out inside the large, empty void. It's origin, being a gigantic, tentacled mass that floated in the center of the darkness. Floating before it, was Zaen, who tried his best to bow, but ended up floating upside down in the process.

"Greetings Lord Ichabon, I have come on a matter that is dire… or I am led to believe it is. The Necronomicon has advised me to help along a man named Grindelwald, who inspires to be a lord among men, but… he is extremely weak. The Necronomicon explained that I should approach you, and ask for the service of the wand you created, to help guide Grindelwald to power." Zaen begged of the Great One, who studied Zaen with it's one, large eye. Zaen could see a balance being weighed in the beast's eye, a balance determining whether or not Zaen would awake in the physical realm once more, or sleep forever.

"This man… what right does he have to rule over those around him? Why does he deserve my power?" Ichabon questioned, as Zaen wrapped his mind around possible answers.

"He has no right, but I can feel something when I am near him… like something pulling at the planes… Almost like something's changed… and the change is raw, causing the planes to react negatively. I believe that he should be allowed to continued, just to see what does happen." Zaen responded in an intelligent man, as he hoped that the entity would understand the need for knowledge, even if it was technically death.

"Hmm…. you make a wise point Braithmore. I will grant this raw element my power, but you must follow him. If he ever reaches a point, where that pull is too strong… destroy him." Ichabon boomed out it's clause, which Zaen would easily follow. Now matter what loyalties he may have to the Necronomicon, and later to Grindelwald… the fate of the reality planes was a much more important value.

"I will in a heartbeat."

 **"Then… your heart must still be beating. Don't let it stop, as no Necromancy known to mankind will save you."**

* * *

 **The Sealed Dimension**

* * *

 **"My brethren… have you felt it? The walls have weakened."** A voice asked inside the darkest of all places, the realm outside of the walls of reality and light. Outside of the reach of the sun, and the farthest touch of life. Far from the sweet embrace of warmth.  
At the words spoken, a large barrage of roars and laughter rained throughout the plane.  
The Elders were shaken on that day, but it would take one more to let them loose.  
 **It also would take a very long time, and a very foolish, young raven...**

* * *

 **Did you enjoy? Review if you did.**  
The Elder Gods will awaken, but if they do, it won't be during Zaen's chapters, or during really any of the books. Hadrian will have WAY too much on his plate throughout the main series, and the return of a race of unstoppable gods will be a little too much for the time being.  
Yes, Zaen does have friends in dark places, and has had plenty of experience with Lovecraft's creatures, and has earned the favor of one, and the promise of another.  
The requests of the Necronomicon will conflict with Zaen's goals later on, and it will be up to him, whether to follow his first friend, or focus on the big picture.  
Only time will tell.  
Anyway, have a good night everyone.  
 _ **AND A HAPPY HALLOWEEN!**_  
Sweet nightmares.  
 **-Oscar Unknown.**


	12. The Wicked Dead: Demons That Lurk

**Tales Of Black Britain.**

 **Episode Three: The Wicked Dead**

* * *

 **A.N**

 **Hello again, sorry for the wait.**  
We were enjoying ourselves a little, and slowly working on new chapters. Darin and I have been working on converting chapter 4 of The Peverell Edition, I've been working on this, and Ryan is working on a new Last Yokai chapter.  
Also, I made this story a crossover between Harry Potter, and The Cthulhu mythos, as it kind of is at the moment.  
Well, in this chapter, we see Zaen interacting with more of Lovecraft's monsters, and gaining an "ally" in the event of the Elder Ones ever getting free.  
Mainly, it's Zaen gaining experience, and getting horrified and mentally tortured by the worst nightmares in existence. He spends more time with Grindelwald, and our favorite (Not really) asshole pops up quickly in a reference, and will signify the future events for Zaen, both the future from this chapter, and for the overall (Book 3 and set up for 4) future of Zaen Braithmore.  
We also bought Fallout 4… We've been very busy...  
Enjoy!  
 **-The Dark Tipped Snake**

* * *

 **R &R**

* * *

 **Chapter Three: Demons That Lurk**

* * *

 **The Mindscape of Zaen Braithmore**

 **(1874)**

* * *

 **It was a nearly thirty Braithmore, that found himself in the company of the Dream Eater.**

Zaen stared forward, at the shadowy creature that he had summoned to his dreams. The Necronomicon had mentioned that he would need the assistance of the Great God, and that his blessing would alert them to the presence of others.

Zaen moved forward inside the black room that he found himself in, and stopped before the shadowy form of Huitloxopetl, the god known for it's powers over the dreams of mortals.

"I already know why you call Guardian, and I shall grant you a token of my power. I know of your potential, and of those of my kin, that would eagerly strike you with their power. I shall bestow upon you a locket, that will call to you within your dreams, and warn you of the dangers facing your way." Huitloxopetl whispered, as it twisted itself around Zaen, muttering strange phases into his ears.

Zaen let out a sweat, as images of horrific beasts flashed before the innards of his eyes, filling his mind with knowledge of monstrous beings, that could skin him in seconds. He let out a gasp, as he saw every single way the collection of gods would destroy him, and painfully end his life.  
He saw himself skinned alive, ripped apart, melted down to mush, burned to ash, frozen to stone and broken, and eaten by a mighty beast. He flinched, as the Dream Eater ate at his fears, and at his thoughts belonging to his death.

Huitloxopetl groaned, as it fed on his fears, and inhibitions. "Gooodd…. you are delicious mortal man, your dreams are so satisfying. Wear my token with pride, and fear not the wrath of my brethren, as you will know if they are set free."

"Thank you my lord-" Zaen began, before being interrupted as Huitloxopetl spoke once more.

"No... thank you. I have not tasted such black dreams in several millenia." The ink-like blob of a creature moaned, as it seemingly gripped Zaen's mind with a firm hand. Zaen shook slightly, before pulling from the god's presence.

"I have summoned you to my realm, and passed your test… will you keep your end of the deal, or do I have to send you right back from where I got you?" Zaen threatened in a deep voice, desperately trying to not flinch in front of the god of visions and dreams.

"You impress me mortal, so I shall." Huitloxopetl said in a calm voice, as a golden locket appeared around Zaen's neck, a small engraving of Huitloxopetl was situated in the center of the gold piece.

"What must I do?" Zaen asked the entity, as he wondered how the radiant piece would be of use, besides the warning that had been mentioned before.

 **"Just sleep with peace mortal, and wait till I call for yourself. Let us both hope, that I never do."**

* * *

 **Mortem Keep, Russia**

 **(1904)**

* * *

 **Zaen looked at his comrade, his ally, Gellert Grindelwald.**  
The two had traveled across Europe in their recent years, going on Gellert's 'quest' to become the next dark lord. and learning everything they could that could help the weak man become something fierce. Zaen gifted him Ichabon's wand, which the younger man accepted gracefully, which also helped him along on his path.  
Eventually, the two had found the moderately large medieval abode they resided in, which they had dubbed 'Mortem Keep.'  
Over the years, Zaen and Gellert had grown to be friends, despite the warnings Ichabon had given him, not to grow too 'attached' to his friend.  
The two had been discussing their plans for the day, when Gellert had decided to tell his friend what had been bothering him.

"Zaen… I'm going to Britain." Gellert said, not looking up from his journal, of which he was writing in. Zaen just looked at his friend in confusion, before responding in question.

"Britain? Why? What is so important about Britain?"

"Well… as you probably know, I have been looking into the stories of the Brothers Peverell, and their tale… I believe I have found a man that knows of the location of the other artifacts." Gellert said, fondling the Elder Wand, of which he had become fond of.  
Zaen scoffed at this, as he knew that Gellert's goal of being 'Master of Death' was just a load of dragon dung, as he knew Ichabon would not allow such a thing, but nevertheless, he humored his friend.

"Who is this man, and how do you know he really knows where the Hollows are? This could be a trick to bring you to justice…." Zaen said, as they had been aware of similar tricks. Gellert and Zaen had both became relatively known throughout Europe, and many had attempted to find and turn them in.

 **"His name is Albus Dumbledore, and he had the full script of the story, and knows where the First Brother is buried…"**

* * *

 **Britain**

 **(1910)**

* * *

 **Zaen knew that Dumbledore was a fake from the start.**  
The supposed 'full' version of the Brothers' story, was just a stretched version of the existing story. The liar even said that he had found the location of the Elder Wand… when they had it the entire time.  
Zaen had laughed, when Dumbledore went through the entire process of digging Ignotus Peverell up, only to find out that there wasn't a wand in his casket. It was then, that they showed him the wand in their possession.  
After that slip up, Dumbledore told them that an old man named Altho Potter had what he assumed was the third Hallow, the invisibility cloak.

Zaen and Gellert hadn't known what to make of Dumbledore's theory, but still they followed the man to where the elderly man lived. Dumbledore told them how the man didn't live in his ancestral home (He told them that no one knew where it was), but instead had chosen to live in the heart of Chiswick, England.

The three men (Plus the Necronomicon) had then set off to the district of Chiswick, and found the old man, who just threatened them.

He refused to speak to Dumbledore, declaring him a stalker, **but did speak with Zaen.**

* * *

 **/\/\\\/\\\/\FLASHBACK/\/\/\/\/\**

* * *

 **Chiswick, West London, Britain**

 **(1907)**

* * *

 **"Who are you? And why are you following that goat fucker around?"** Altho Potter, the aged Lord, said. He was waiting for his grandson to mature enough to take his place, so he maintained his place as Lord of Potter House.

He looked closely at Zaen, and felt the darkness vibrating off of his body. He approved.

"My name is Zaen Braithmore, and I am here with my colleague, as that 'Goat fucker' said that you have a specific cloak, one which those two are obsessed with." Zaen explained to the man, as he took a seat within the man's small home. They had left the two men outside of the home, where snow had begun to fall upon them, while Zaen sat warm inside the small brick house.

"Ah, you're another one of the treasure hunters, after my cloak. I must tell ya sir, the Deathly Hallows are just a story, nothing more. They won't make you immortal, and grant you special powers…" Altho said gruffly, as he took a shot of whiskey, which set him off in a coughing fit.

"I know that sir, but they don't. I have… otherworldly knowledge that tells me that they are just a story (Though he just said that to calm the man), but my friend… he is deeply involved in the lore." Zaen said in a smooth voice, trying to manipulate the old man, who stared at his dark eyes.

"You know… you are really good at sounding convincing... " Altho said, before continuing. "But I've heard many smooth-talking men come to me, saying that they don't want the cloak, but actually do. I'll tell you now, you aren't ever getting my cloak, as guess what?"

Zaen didn't want to stoop to asking what, so he just remained in compliance silence.

"My cloak is bonded to my bloodline, and is keyed to my magical core. Tell your buddies that they aren't going to get my cloak, not now, nor ever."

Zaen actually smiled at this, as he was sure that it would be enough to discourage Gellert from going after the Hallows.  
 **He was partly right.**

* * *

 **/\/\/\/\/\FLASHBACK END/\/\/\/\**

* * *

 **He had been right that Gellert would forget about the Deathly Hallows,** but unknown to him, he kept searching for ways to avoid his death.  
Gellert began to search every place he knew to find a way to stave off death, or become immortal.  
It was only one day, that he found a curious book inside an old magical library.  
The two had decided to travel to Germany, after Zaen had gotten a contract for his Necromancy.  
Gellert had found the old book, hidden inside the blocked off section of the ancient library.  
The old, aged and weathered book he held in his hands, read in big, crumbling letters.

 **The Black Art of Horcruxes**

It was with that, that the dark lord found a way, and the entire future of Britain was changed.

That would cause extreme troubles for a young boy,

 **And set his life on a path that would lead him to follow in his footsteps...**

* * *

 **Yes, Gellert did start making Horcruxes at this point.**  
The journal he was writing in, was from he was a teen, but he didn't turn it into a Horcrux until around this time. He also still had his obsession with the Hallows, though since he had one, Zaen was able to lead him off of it.  
Zaen and Gellert are friends by this point, but Gellert is starting to keep secrets from him, as he began to think that Zaen could be hiding something from him. He knows about Zaen's necromancy business, and he knows that Zaen gets 'weird' from time to time. (Those being the times when he converses with Great Ones.)  
I also guess it's time to leave you with a cliffhanger.

 **Will Zaen be able to overcome his friendship with Gellert and kill him if the time comes? And how will the addition of Horcruxes play in?**

 **Will Zaen ignore the Necronomicon and Ichabon, and try his hardest to keep his friend alive?**

 **Will Dumbledore come into play once more?** (I'll tell you about that one, he does.)

 **Will the Potter's be more important?**

And Well, I guess that's it for now.  
The next chapter will be the final part of Zaen's episode, and as usual, I will leave a preview.  
Goodbye for now everyone.  
 **-DTS**


	13. The Wicked Dead: No Hiding From Death

**Tales Of Black Britain.**

 **Episode Three: The Wicked Dead**

* * *

 **A.N**

* * *

 **Hello everyone.**  
I'm back again with the last chapter of Wicked Dead.  
I will let you all know, Ryan and I are flying out to the States for the next week or so, as we're going to be visiting our families for Thanksgiving, which is going to take our attention away from our stories. Darin and Sean are going to stay though, so Darin is going to be working on a new chapter of his story, as he decided the Poll result is close enough.  
I of course am going to be including a hint at the next Episode at the end, which will be interesting. This chapter is going to cover the end of Grindelwald, what Zaen is going to be doing at the start of book 4, and a little view at the distant future. (I will be showing a bit of a future book, but will avoid spoilers the best I can.)  
Well, enjoy and read on.  
 **-The Dark Tipped Snake**

* * *

 **R &R**

* * *

 **Chapter End: No Hiding From Death**

* * *

 **The Parthenon, Athens, Greece**

 **(1945)**

* * *

 **Zaen Curont Braithmore found himself standing in a dusty, barren temple.**  
With him stood two men, one his brother in arms, his best friend for the last fifty years. The other, a frumpled old man, obsessed with a real live fairy tale. Zaen and Gellert had traveled to Greece, after Zaen received a letter from a Greek wizard, who wrote that he found a tomb of what he claimed was a god, and wanted assistance.  
They had found that it was a trap once they reached the temple, as instead of a Greek wizard, they found a slightly insane Albus Dumbledore. Zaen and Gellert learned that Dumbledore had murdered Altho Potter in his mad quest for the Hallows (The fact he couldn't use it enraged him) and had come after them for them for Ichabon's wand. Zaen tried to defuse the situation at first, but he knew a final stand when he saw one. Dumbledore and Gellert were facing off against one another, each wanted to end the other. Zaen knew this would be the end of one of the men, and all he could do was watch.  
He also knew this would need to happen, as he had watched as Gellert had grown stronger over the years, and had failed to act on Ichabon's instructions. It didn't help matters, that Gellert had surpassed Zaen in power. Zaen was a normal human after all, only gaining magic and his extended life from the Necronomicon's gifts.

He let a single tear fall, when he saw the two wizards engage in combat, their wands blasting off every single spell the two knew. The air inside the old temple was alight with colors, sound vibrating off of the ancient walls. Zaen just watched, a part of him hoping Gellert would lose so his promise would stand, and a defiant part of him hoping his friend would live on.  
His hope was destroyed, as he watched his friend's body get blown apart by some strange spell blasted from the wand of Dumbledore.  
Then to Zaen's horror, a spectral form of Gellert Grindelwald rose from the ashes of his body.  
Zaen instantly knew what his friend had done.

"Gellert! Are you insane?! This isn't how it was supposed to happen!" Zaen yelled out, knowing that he had failed. Ichabon would no doubt destroy him, as Zaen had no chance of finishing off Gellert without tracking down whatever he had made into a Horcrux.

"I am far from insane my friend, unlike some people. I will tell you, I know of your promise… " Gellert said cryptically, before fading away.

At his failure, Zaen turned towards Dumbledore, and let out his hatred and anger at himself onto the aged man. Dumbledore's body smashed into a cracked, marble column.

Having neutralized the man, Zaen bent down and scooped up the black cloak that had flown from Dumbledore's robes.  
Zaen knew what he needed to do, **and left the temple, and his life behind.**

* * *

 **Potter Manor, Founder's Lane, Pevenno, Britain**

 **(1951)**

* * *

 **Zaen looked over the castle-like manor in front of him.**

It rose over him, the shadow of it lingering before him, as if the castle itself were attempting to scare him off. He found it interesting, but not frightening, and decided to move forward.  
He stepped up to the large entrance door, and thought over how he found the hidden city.  
He had spent five years searching all of Europe, speaking to the right people, and asking every one of his connections about Charlus Potter, the grandson of Altho. He was determined to do something good for once, no matter how many times the Necronomicon tried to lead him off of his quest. The cloak of Invisibility deserved to be with it's rightful owners, as the family was gifted with it right from Ichabon. He also wasn't going anywhere near the God of Death.

Returning to the present, he knocked his knuckles against the large dark-oak door, which set off a rumbling noise around them. Instead of a house-elf or something else that he expected, he found a young adult with wild black hair and copper eyes before him. He could see the resemblance to Altho clearly.

"Who are you, and how did you enter Pevenno?" The young man, Charlus Airen Potter asked him, a suspicious and slightly angry look in his light-brown eyes.

"Just a delivery man," Zaen said before handing over the cloak, nestled inside a silver box. Charlus took the box, before scanning it quickly with a tan wand. Once satisfied, the young man looked up again in question. Zaen then finished his explanation. "That was your grandfathers. Take care of it."

With that, Zaen turned and left for the border of the town. **He had done his task, and considered it done.**

* * *

 **Mortem Keep, Russia**

 **(1994)**

* * *

 **Over the years, Zaen Braithmore's guilt began to eat away at him.**  
His guilt over breaking his promise, his guilt in not noticing his friend ripping apart his soul, and his guilt in not saving his friend.  
He searched for many years in an attempt to find a method of restoring his friend to life, all the while having the restless, angry spirit of his former friend plaguing him. Zaen thought he had struck gold when he discovered the diary horcrux of Gellert's, which he combined with the lingering wraith of Gellert, and sent it out onto Hogwarts…. where Hadrian. Fucking. James. God damn. Potter destroyed it, and sent Gellert's new body through the Veil of 'Death.'  
Zaen then went to working attempting to find a way to retrieve his friend from Ichabon's realm, where he no doubt had been tortured, without ending up trapped as well.

Then… he found it.

A little known method, deep inside the Necronomicon, which detailed how to defeat Ichabon, and steal the god's souls right from under him.  
He had to access Ichabon's realm, and use another to call Gellert out from the doorway.  
Wasn't it lucky that Zaen knew just where to find that doorway, **and knew just who to use?**

* * *

 **The Ministry of Magic, Wizarding Britain**

 **(1998)**

* * *

 **Zaen knew his death approached,** when a solid blade pierced his chest, blood pooling out from the wound.  
He stared into the dark eyes of his killer, and saw hatred and utter disgust lying there. Zaen howled with pain then, when the person removed their sword, and repeatedly stabbed him, their sword flying into his gut and chest with eager bloodlust. After they finally had enough, they kicked his chest off of their blade, leaving his body to crumple to floor in a heap.  
As his corpse hit the tiled floor, the Book of the Dead flew from his coat, sliding against the blood soaked floor. The Necronomicon closed it's eyes, it's guardian dead, and slept on for years to come.

The swordsmen picked up the book then, and kept it out of curiosity.

The Necronomicon waited then, until the day it's new guardian would wake it.

 **In four decades' time, it would.**

* * *

 **Did you enjoy? I hope you did.**  
Well, that is the end of the story of Zaen Braithmore.  
I don't really have much to say about this character, but I did enjoy writing the character. His story is a sad one partially, as he was just a normal boy once, who was taken over by the black magic of the Necronomicon, and forced into a life of evil.  
The last bit you see, will be one of the last bits of the final battle in book 7, and you can see by the setting, the final battle won't be at Hogwarts. Hadrian also won't be on the defensive, Hogwarts won't be involved a lot, and the war will be three-side, instead of the light VS the dark. It will be the light Vs the dark VS the grey. Well, I need to pack soon, as we're leaving tomorrow for a week.  
I'll leave you all with the preview.  
See you all later.  
 **-Oscar Unknown**

* * *

 **Episode Four: The Man Who Killed**

* * *

 **(2024)**

* * *

 **"You know… it was stupid of you to oppose me in the first place."** A man said in a strong, dark voice. He paced inside of a comfortable room, decked in shades of green and gray. The man looked over at his most prized trophy, for you see, the man loved collecting trophies from the people that had tried to fight him, only for him to destroy them.  
The trophy for which he spoke to now, was a cracked pair of glasses, the frames made to be of a half moon-like shape. The glasses sat on a plush frame, atop a silver column, a glass case atop it.  
He remembered ripping the glasses from the dead man's face, and laughing at the pained look on the Dumbledore's features.  
The man looked up when a knock came from his door, bringing him back from his memories.

"Come in." He said in an even tone, already knowing who it was, he had felt her and her mother and brother enter through the wards. His office door opened then, and a small, blonde haired girl walked into the room. Her long hair ran down her face, all of it tame except one stray piece rebelling from the back of her head. Her trademark abnormal eyes, one green, and one a blue-ish grey looked back at him.

Jazmin looked over at him, a wide smile on her face at seeing him after almost a month.

"Daddy, we're back from the exhibition. You wouldn't believe what Cadmus found when we reached the jungle!" She almost-yelled in excitement, dragging him slightly from his dark office.  
He tried to keep a stoic calm look on his face, but he felt a small smile began to betray him.

"Oh, I wouldn't say that. I've seen many things that are unbelievable…" He said in a warm voice, as his daughter led him down the main staircase of his home.

Lord Scuro Potter may try to be the scariest, brutal, most powerful Dark Lord in the world… but he can't be dark all of the time.  
 **There always comes a time for family.**

* * *

 **Coming soon, sometime in December… ;)**


	14. The Man Who Killed: The Shadowy Ruler

**Tales Of Black Britain.**

 **Episode Four: The Man Who Killed**

* * *

 **A.N**

* * *

 **Hello everyone, it's December!** My favorite month.  
We flew back on Black Sunday, (Why the hell is almost every store in America now celebrating a "Black Friday" week? I mean, really?) but our flight had been delayed as there was some stupid couple that kept pitching a fit about how the flight attendant wouldn't let them back on the plane if they left to get lunch… Americans are getting stupider, even though I am one still.  
Anyway, welcome to the new chapter. We will be discussing the beginning of the man known as Lord Scuro, and some of his actions since becoming the Dark Lord. I have also added in some details about his family, and you all should pick up on some of it from mentions of future Hadrian's life from Dead Man's Diary. (That is, if you've read Dead Man's Diary.)  
Well, I hope you enjoy the first chapter of Scuro's Arc.  
I'll talk to you all later.  
 **-The Dark Tipped Snake**

* * *

 **R &R**

* * *

 **Chapter One: The Shadowy Ruler**

* * *

 _ **There will be a changing tide.**_  
 _There will be a child born, when the seventh month comes to a close._  
 _That child shall be birthed in the shadows of his parents, and will emerge stronger as a result._  
 _The boy will submerge himself among the light, and walk a path set only by himself._  
 _He will rise above all others, and take his place as lord of all._  
 _The Boy of Darkness will be born when the seventh month comes to a **close…**_

 _ **That,** was the prophecy predicted about me before I was even born. It spoke about me becoming something more than what I was expected to be, and most likely of me becoming the Dark Lord that I am. Honestly, I didn't believe in prophecies, I thought it was all a load of Hippogriff shit piled onto my old lesson plans._  
 _But then I found out the truth…_  
 _There was no denying my destiny._  
 _ **I am the Dark Lord**_

* * *

 **(1997-2001)**

 **The moment Lord Scuro was born,** was with the death of Albus Dumbledore.  
Hadrian Potter had just dispatched of his lifelong enemy, when he felt something echo throughout his being. He gained knowledge out of seemingly nowhere, much like he had years before, when he had been at the tender and angry age of eight. He also remembered, the vision of an older version of himself that he had seen, and realized that he had become a dead-ringer for that image of himself.  
As he stood over the body of the old man, Hadrian felt a sudden weight atop his head, and realized that a crown much like that of his 'future' self had worn. Along with the crown and knowledge, he gained one more thing, though it was extremely bothersome.  
He had one single word stuck inside his head, which seemed to be relentless in trying to get his attention.  
 **"Scuro."**

* * *

 **(2003)**

* * *

 **It didn't take long for Scuro to destroy the Ministry.**  
It was relatively easy for him as well, as the Minister just rolled over before him after seeing who the man regarded as the 'Light Lord' be struck down in cold fury. Scuro spared the Minister then, and simply imprisoned the man instead. Neutra Alleys always needed workers, especially with the plans he had in mind. Contrary to what the people of wizarding Britain thought, he only destroyed the structure of the Ministry, but the building still remained. (Though it was in a sorry state after Hadrian had finished the war there.)

After he had reduced the defiance of his people, he began to place members of his council in positions of authority, as it allowed him to have a firmer grip on the United Kingdom. The way he controlled the country, was he reigned as the Dark Lord, but beneath him sat his Ministries. Frankly, he thought the entire process of gaining absolute control over Britain was great fun.  
He remembered then, the day he had placed his Minster of Magic for Britain…

 **What a field day that had been.**

* * *

 _ **/Flashback!\**_

* * *

 **Wizengamot, Ministry of Magic, Britain**

 **(1998)**

* * *

 **Scuro Potter walked into what remained of the Wizengamot section of the Ministry building.**  
He looked around him, and to his delight noticed the giant hole into the side he had caused during the beginning of the Battle for The Ministry. With a frown, he also noticed the other injuries the building had, but with a snap of his fingers the building repaired itself. (He left the giant hole though, as it brought back good memories.)  
He remembered then what he was doing, and resumed leading his 'candidate' into the circular meeting room.  
As he stepped into the multi-chaired room, he looked around him at the few people that still occupied their House seats. (Many of the pure Light houses had fallen to his blade during the blunt of the war.)  
When some of the houses sneered in his direction, he put his arm around the person he had brought with him. He had made sure that she was safe, as he wouldn't dare let her leave the manor unprotected, especially with her being pregnant with his children. (The news of the twins had been a complete surprise to them both.)

When he was sure that each of the remaining members of the Wizengamot were present, he conjured his 'Dark Lord' clothing to him, and stood tall in the center of the room.

"Hello Wizengamot, I'm here to introduce you to your new Mistress of Magic, Hermione Granger." Scuro said in a stern voice, as he gestured to Hermione, who looked completely awkward at the situation, but managed to put a tough look on for him.

At this news, the aged wizards began to fuss and yell, and let loose a stream of denials led by one bearded man. Scuro knew this man, Lord Byron Irwin, an old lord of a noble house that tended to teeter between the lines of light and dark.

"THAT IS UNACCEPTABLE! There has never been a single female Minister, especially a mudb-" Irwin began to shout, only to be cut off, as his right arm shared the same fate as his berating speech. The man screamed in agony then, as his arm fell straight off of his body, the offending limb landing on the polished floor with a squish. After getting sick of the man's wails, Scuro silenced the man, and turned to the rest of the group with slight anger, masked by an icy calm that made each member shiver.

"Do any of you even know who I am? I AM THE DARK LORD! I AM THE FIGURE BEHIND YOUR WORLD! I BROKE THE WILL OF YOUR PREVIOUS LEADER, AND DESTROYED THE LIGHT! Do you understand yet? What I say goes, goes… My wife is the Minister now, and if anyone has any objections… They won't remain here very long…" Scuro screamed out in anger, ending his speech with cold whispers directed at the people there, leaving them all feeling as if they had been hugged by Dementors. The Wizengamot merely shuddered and nodded at this, as Scuro lead Hermione carefully up to the Minister's chair, and made sure she was nice and comfortable.

He looked around him then, and gave a twisted grin, his crown hanging down on his face, the points giving him the illusion of having horns.

"Now if that is settled, I believe you all have a lot to talk about," Scuro said in a light, cheerful tone before turning back to the new 'Mistress of Magic'.

"Oh yes, 'Mione dear, I'll drop by in… an hour or two, I have business to discuss with the DMLE. See you all later!"

At this, Scuro walked slowly from the rounded room, leaving a scared group of old men, and **a confident woman behind.**

* * *

 _ **/Flashback end!\**_

* * *

 **He couldn't help but chuckle at the memory.**  
He had come to pick his wife up after two hours, and found her dictating a new list of laws to the group, all of them submissively listening to her, and sucking up by agreeing with everything.  
The list she had made up had impressed and surprised him, as number one had been that he was above the Ministry, and that each Minister or Mistress from then on would have to consult him or which ever descendant of his that decided to carry on his role.

He knew from the start that Hermione would be a competent minister, and he was right as she completely changed the whole of wizarding britain to his side in less than two years, and barely took time off. Her dedication to her job was so intense, that she only took a month off when the twins were born, then immediately went back to work in a rush. Poor Clark and little Winston had to put up with him until Hermione could get some time off, which was greatly appreciated as he had to postpone some of his business at the time to take care of the newborns. He had thought it was funny back then, as to Hermione's dismay, the twins looked almost identical to him. The only differences between the twins and their father, was that they had orange eyes and strangely tan skin for newborns. He had never really found out where the orange eyes had come from, as his were black-ish green and their mother had brown eyes.

He had been lucky in a way, as at least he had help from Dean at the time. The man was experienced with children, as the dirty blonde did raise two daughters, and was a great help despite the fact that the twins were a completely different gender than Dean's own.

In exchange for his help, Scuro had set Dean up with a modest mansion inside of Potter Estates, where his own blonde now lived, around the same age as his toddler raven haired boys.  
He thought then, that he might as well visit with Dean on that day, as he did want to check on his other children, and as always he was worried about little Dean Sirius.  
He lamented on the topic then, as he remembered the fate that had befallen the little dark brunette's parents, before moving on from it.  
He blazed then, and appeared in front of the improv Greengrass manor. He walked his way to the front door, and knocked thrice upon the dark wood, and waited for it to be opened.  
It opened then, to reveal good old Dean Greengrass, now with a few notable streaks of grey atop his head.

"Finally! James will not calm down, and his accidental magic is getting even more destructive. I also learned something, and thought you should know. Never put that boy in a bed without his blankie, as last time I tried he blew the entire bed up. I STILL have splinters!" Dean exclaimed, the exhaustion from handling the eldest Potter child catching up to him quickly, as he passed the fussing child to Scuro. Upon entering his father's arms, James instantly began to calm, and was lulled to sleep by an old trick of his father's. Scuro had remembered over the years, how his magic had helped him sleep as an infant by manifesting his Dark Flame abilities into a swirling ball of flame that calmed him to sleep.

Dean just looked slightly shocked and irritated at this, and just went off to bed, muttering something about a pyromaniac being a better parent than him.

Scuro chuckled at this, and walked to his son's room, lightly rocking his arms back and forth. As quickly and quietly as he could, Scuro placed the small boy into his bed, and made sure to give the boy his blanket as well.

Seeing that his son was occupied, Scuro decided to go visit some of his council as well, as he was sure most of them were at home as well.  
It was a very good idea of his to move his friends and family almost next door, as he could visit them almost any time he wanted.  
As he walked out of the manor, he began to think over who could be home, and just decided to visit Luna.  
 **They always found something fun to do…**

* * *

 **Buckingham Palace, London, Britain**

 **(1999)**

* * *

 **" Now, tell me once more Lord Potter, why should I allow a 'Dark Lord' to live and thrive in my kingdom?"** Queen Elizabeth the second, the current queen of England asked the man that sat before her. She had been reluctant at first to meet with him, as she had heard that he was a terrorist of sorts, and had in fact dismantled his own government. Now, he was meeting with her's.  
After almost a year, he had finally managed to meet with her over tea, but she still refused to refer to him as Scuro. (Though, he supposed she could be another one of the exceptions.)

"Your majesty, has your kingdom recovered from the attacks of Gellert Grindelwald yet? Have your citizens recovered from the murder and assaults that have been raised against them?" Scuro asked, his intent hidden as he sipped away at the cream-colored tea he had been given at the start of their meeting. He had never really tried the exact type before, and he decided that it must be the one type he actually liked.

"Of course not, it's been much too soon for us all to flip around and forget everything. Britain has taken a massive blow from your war, but why do you bring this up?" The Queen asked, as she looked closely at his face, criticizing every detail of his face mentally. He merely drank more of his drink, before giving her the answer she requested, and the reason why he was needed.

"Because, as the Dark Lord, I can make sure no fools like Grindelwald ever get the chance again… I can guarantee Britain will come under no more fire as long as I live… So, do we have a deal?" Scuro asked, holding his hand out to the Queen. Despite the fact that the man dealt his cards roughly, and the fact that she normally wouldn't shake hands with anyone, she did shake with him after almost ten minutes of debating with herself.

 **"We do…"**

* * *

 **So… did you enjoy?**  
Yes, most of this chapter is Scuro spending time with his family, but there won't be a super large focus on his family in his arc. I will, however be introducing his children, child by child, but I will be keeping some things to myself. Can't spoil everything for you all! ;P

Scuro is making quick progress of Britain, and has full reign technically. I won't tell you all too much about Hadrian's (And Scuro's) future, (The parts that will appear in the main series) but I will say this. Pay attention to who does appear in his arc, and who doesn't. Anyway, that's it for now.  
Have a good day everyone.  
 **-Oscar Unknown**


	15. The Man Who Killed: Potter?

**Tales Of Black Britain.**

 **Episode Four: The Man Who Killed**

* * *

 **A.N**

* * *

 **Hello everyone.**

I decided that I wanted to try something a bit different from the last three arcs. This chapter will show the perspective of not just Scuro, but several of his children, some of which I have not shown, but have planned for since January. I will say, there is a lot of them, more than the Weasley children at least.  
There will be many new things to know, and a lot of information to remember.

This chapter is pure foreshadowing, as I might cover the children more after I finish the main series. (Eventually) Don't have much to say really, as there isn't much to address.

Enjoy this slightly longer than normal chapter, and have a nice night all of you.  
 **-The Dark Tipped Snake**

* * *

 **R &R**

* * *

 **Chapter Two: Potter?**

* * *

 **Platform 9¾, King's Cross Railroad Station, London, Britain**

 **(September 1st, 2015)**

* * *

 **Thomas 'Tom' Edgar Slytherin looked across the crowded station** , of which he would depart soon. Before him the battered silver, diesel speed train stood still on it's tracks, preparing for it's journey. Apparently, before he was born his father had replaced some old train with the new one, which annoyed a lot of people. His mother in general told him not to pay attention to whenever his father had his 'meetings.'

Tom wasn't an idiot however, as he always knew his father was someone different. He had heard many people call his father 'lord' over the years, and many simply call him 'Scuro.' He also could clearly remember the times when rude guests would arrive at the Manor, and… wouldn't leave his father's office.  
His father's true role was even more evident when Tom was taken out into public, as people shirked away from his family, while others worshiped his father. Eventually, he had even found a book describing the life of his father, which was when he discovered his father's secret, and what he had gone through to get to that current day. He thought his father was the best, and most powerful man in the world…

Now, Tom Slytherin was awaiting the train to depart on it's way to Hogwarts for his first year, his siblings elsewhere on the train. After his parents saw him off, and his father went off to talk with some other child's lewd father, Tom made his way onto the train. Much like his father, Tom found himself in one of the last compartments on the train.

After waiting for almost ten minutes, and for the train to actually start to leave, Tom found himself sitting among another blonde, albeit a lighter one.  
Scorpio Malfoy, along with his small raven named 'Rook' joined him just before the train departed. The friends greeted one another, and began to compare the summer, of which the two had been separated. The two did not often see one another, as Scorpio's mother had politely denied his father's offer for a home in Pevenno years before. The two did meet up every once in awhile, but his father had always been protective of Tom. (Why? The blonde didn't really know.)

Unlike the conversations of their father's long ago, the boys did not have doubts at all about Hogwarts, as they knew they had nothing to fear of the school, as opposed to what the school was like two decades back. Back when that old guy was running the place.

The made small talk for a time, but eventually they were interrupted by a person they knew much too well. Molly Weasley, the second.  
They both knew the young redhead well, as she had often in a sense, stalked them whenever they left Pevenno.  
Her main obsession was with Tom, ever since she was a small child, as her mother had grown bitter over the years, and corrupted the child. She was literally the worst of her mother, grandmother, and was much like her deceased uncle.

"Hello there Thomas, how nice to see you! Why don't you come and sit with me, not this ponce…." Molly said in a sharp, sweet voice as she glared hatred at Scorpio, who ignored the redhead to the best of his abilities. Rook merely stared right back at her, death in his little eyes, as he barked at her loudly.

"Well… M-molly, I kind- I don't" Tom muttered, his unique insecurity, which only he possessed, coming into play. He was trying his best to ward off the offensive girl, who quickly was moving way too close to him. Tom also felt a flush of slight anger at her use of Thomas, as even though it was the extended form of his name, he always preferred simply Tom, though he didn't really know why he preferred the nickname. He just did.

"Hey Weasley, my brother doesn't need you bothering him, so beat it." A new voice asked, as a tall blonde teenager snuck right up next to the young girl. Molly looked up, and met the eyes of Victoria Viola Pevenno, Tom's oldest sister and newly appointed Hogwarts prefect.  
Molly just grumbled at this opposition, and walked off, her eyes still on Tom.

"Just ignore her Tommy, I'll make sure she stays away until we get to the castle." Victoria said, as she ruffled Tom's hair and walked off to resume her rounds.

Tom signed at this, and began to read from one of the thrilling books his 'aunt' Hermione had let him borrow from her library.

As Tom Slytherin read through his novel, the main character had just faced off against one of his first challenges, acquiring an aged artifact from the vaults of Satan. The character had then found the mysterious artifact, which told the character of a quest he had to follow in order to save the world from horrific monsters. Tom found the book interesting, as the hero reminded him of someone he knew. He didn't pay much attention to the descriptions of the character, and he also didn't notice as small bolts of blue electricity began to dance at the tips of his fingers.  
 **It wouldn't be long now…**

* * *

 **The Dark Compartment, The 'Hogwarts' Scuro Express**

* * *

 **Harrison Judas Atlantes** sat on the padded azure sofa in the corner of their compartment. The older of his half siblings were among him, all doing different things to occupy their time. When his father had created the ground plans for the Scuro Express, he had followed the diagrams of the old express closely, but added in an addition car behind the Prefect's compartment. Their father had employed many different luxuries and advantages in the room, and make it so only his descendants could make use of the room, but only after their first years had ended. (After some years, and once they had made friends of their own, their father modified the compartment to allow their friends to sit with them.)  
The car didn't have compartments like the rest of the train, instead having a more common room-esque, single room for the entire of it.

Showing that their father did not have issues such as house bias, each corner of the Dark Compartment was decorated with the theme of each of the Hogwarts houses. The upper left of the car was furnished solely with burgundy and golden silk furniture, all with the Lion-faced crest on some part of it. In the exact corner of the Gryffindor section, was a large fireplace made of fine stones.

If you had asked an ex-Gryffindor from his father's time, or before about it, they would tell you that the fireplace looked exactly like the one the Gryffindor common roof had housed. (In all truth, the fireplaces were one and the same.)

Unfortunately for them all, the oldest brother of all of them, James Potter was the only one of them to reside among the Lions. To be perfectly honest, Harrison hated James and his smug 'Holier-than-thou' attitude, and Harrison was almost sure that he wasn't the only 'Potter' to share that feeling.

In the section to the lower-left, were a large supply of comfortable chairs, sofas, beds, anything that could provide any comfort to any future Hufflepuff Potters. At the moment, the corner was completely empty, but Harrison had a feeling that there would soon be one among them enjoying the comforts their father had given for yellow and black section of their compartment.

Just across from the Gryffindor section, was a area furnished with bookshelves, sofas, their own fireplace, along with many different types of furniture all decorated with the colors grey, black, and green. Out of all of the sections in this train, the quality of this section was overall the best furnished out of all of them. Harrison could understand it, as their father had in fact been a Slytherin during his own years. Harrison noticed that the second oldest, Victoria had now arrived and made her way over to the emerald area, where Winston (The older of the Twins) was now.

The Twins had always interested Harrison, as despite being Twins, the two were the farthest thing from close, as the two didn't even want to share the same title, one choosing Black and the other Jinn.

After looking from his Slytherin siblings, Harrison looked back at his own section. The Ravenclaw corner very much reflected the Ravenclaw lifestyle, hard, tough, and with almost no comforts. The corner wasn't as comfortable or nice as the other sections, but it was not for their father's lack of affection for the house, as he did very much admire the house. Instead of being plushed and furnished nicely like the others, the Ravenclaw corner looked like a library of the grandest design, one that would probably make the Twins' mother drool. (Though he had never seen her library.)

He didn't have that many problems with the Twins, though he naturally preferred Clark, as the two had shared a dorm for their combined years at the ancient castle.

Clark was now sitting across from him, studying some kind of book, most likely something their father had assigned him, as their father did give them missions every once in awhile, most of the time training them for their futures.

At his side, his sister Fausta Caine Atlantes was working away at some assignment their mother had given her, as he had already finished the one his father had given him. At her side sat her… weird, green, flying… wolf thing, inside it's cage where it belonged. Honestly, the thing creeped the fuck out of him.  
His father had assigned him during the summer to talk with the German Ministry of Magic, even gave him one of his famous Blazers for the mission. The Minister had given him a report on their country's progress in accepting his father as a neighboring ruler, and had agreed to support them if a new war were to begin anytime in the far future.

Harrison had brought his news of success back to his father, and received a brand new set of Noble House Robes, and strangely a book on whatever a "Yokai" was. Sometimes it was nice, and weird being your father's War Liaison.

Though they normally kept their assignments secret from their siblings, Harrison and Fausta had never kept such secrets, thus he knew she acted as Assassin for their father, and she knew of his job.

In all actuality, if Harrison Atlantes was **anything remotely like a Ravenclaw, it was smart.**

* * *

 **Victoria Pevenno wasn't overly happy with how** her life was turning out. Her life was relatively good overall, really. She was wealthy, she had a huge trust fund from most of her mother's fortune, she had inherited her mother's looks, she was to gain control of Pevenno when she gained her maturity, and in a year she had a shot at Head Girl. (Her only opponent for Head Girl would most likely be her half-sister.)

But… her life had been better. She missed the years when her siblings and her had been younger, when none of them were busy with their father's work, and they were forced to grow up. Most of all she missed the years when her brother, James, wasn't a jackass. Honestly, she couldn't believe the complete flip he had taken in their fourth year, and he had instantly shunned almost all of them and become the 'Golden King of Gryffindor.'

Let's just say… father wasn't and still isn't very happy with him. Even though he was still a git, she did miss him since he decided to move into their great-grandfather's house, 54 Jannings Place.

Despite her good memories with her brother, he was still a bastard, **and she hoped dearly that he didn't make Head Boy.**

* * *

 **Nevado Huascarán, Perú**

 **(2027)**

* * *

 **Cadmus Xenophilius Peverell, the second,** was hanging on for his very life.

He was rock-climbing up the side of one of the strangest mountains in Peru, or at least he guessed it was. On his right, his younger sister Jazmin was vaulting up the cliff side, the cable connecting the two yanking him upward, causing him to leap up to keep with her.

He shivered then, as the winter coat he wore barely kept the wind away, especially since he couldn't wear too thick of a coat, as the cable needed room to latch around them. So, he sacrificed warmth for safety…

Honestly, it wasn't how he would have expected his twelfth birthday to go, though his mother had taken him on crazier 'expeditions' before. When he was younger he had loved their trips. Running through the thickets of the Tropical Rain-forest, zip lining over the Grand Canyon, and exploring the ancient Egyptian Pyramids… but the harsh biome of Peru, which changed from desert, to rain-forest, to now a snowy mountain range didn't really agree with him.

"Jaz! Slow the hell down!" Cadmus yelled up at her, his body pressing against the rocky side, as he achieved a risky side-jump upwards. He was extremely lucky, as his left hand caught an outreaching stretch of rock, preventing the two from plummeting to their bloody deaths down below.

"Why don't you just speed up Caddy? It shouldn't be too hard to catch up, you are a boy after all!" Jazmin Peverell retorted, her voice playfully mocking as she performed yet another jump, just for the cable to pull him once more.

Cadmus growled lightly, as he pulled his upper body once more to get a grip on another stretch of rock, moving progressively up the mountain face. After facing a particularly difficult portion of the mountain, he finally reached the side of his sister, and took a quick glance up the mountain. They were close at least…

"Hey Jazmin, what is it that Mum wants us to find this time?" Cadmus asked, as he had honestly forgotten what creature their mother had wanted them to find… all the way in Peru.

"You really forgot already?! The Heliopath of course!" Jazmin yelled in disbelief, as she couldn't believe that he had actually forgotten, as she wouldn't have forgotten for anything. This was their first exhibition without their mother.

Cadmus just frowned at the thought of encountering a flame spirit… on top of a giant mountain… with almost no water nearby, besides he dreaded the possibility of being lit aflame.

Most Wizards (or Witches) would think to cast a water spell on themselves in the event of being burned, but unknown to them, there must be water somewhere around you. Either in the air, or underground, there has to be.

Unfortunately for him, they were on top of a snow-covered mountain, the only moisture was inside the snow, and he had no experience with snow-spells, if there was any.  
On top of that, the air was the farthest thing from moist that he had ever felt, as it kept whipping at him with it's harsh winds.  
Despite the rotten thought, Cadmus kept climbing, only to stop when Jazmin braked to a stop, just looking upward.

"Cadmus! I saw fire! It must be the Heliopath! Come on!" Jazmin yelled in excitement, as she practically flew up the mountain, Cadmus being forced to keep up with her hurricane like movements.

Cadmus just grimaced and bared it, only feeling relief when they actually reached the top of the horrendous mountain. Immediately once he reached flat ground, Cadmus tried his hardest to hug the Earth, showering kisses upon the icy ground. After relaxing his stiff muscles, he looked up when his sister snickered.

"Cadmus, you can snog your 'girlfriend' later, we've got a flame spirit to photograph!" She mocked, as she pulled him by the collar off the ground, and began to stride over to where she supposedly saw the 'flame.'

"Oh shut up…" Cadmus muttered, knowing that he wouldn't be living this down. He sighed, and began to follow her lead towards what appeared to be a series ancient ruins, though they decided to check out the largest (and intact) ruin site first.  
Upon reaching the entrance, the two split from each other, and both took separate paths through the old ruins. A rookie to exploration would have perhaps been frightened by the empty, dark building, but Cadmus had been in worse situations.

He took in his surroundings, as he focused on the tight, dark walkway he was now walking through. The stone passageway he now followed, seemed unusually tight, as he had to press his arms to his sides as he side-stepped his way through the gap. He knew this hidden passageway wasn't intended for standard use, as he was a lean teenager, and he barely fit through. He silently thanked Merlin that he wasn't claustrophobic.

After almost an hour of squeezing his way through the tight path, he saw a small light in the distance, which stood out greatly, as the **passageway was night black.**

* * *

 **At the hope of light,** he sped up in his path, and after another minute he finally emerged into a lit up corridor. He looked around, and saw that the place was built much like the entrance of a temple, but seemed undisturbed in a way… almost innocent.

He looked around the hall, and noticed that it wasn't overly decorated, as it more resembled a church than anything else. He figured that he was the first person in a long time to enter this… cathedral in who knows how long. He just took a slow walk through the ruins, noticing the tapestries that hung on the walls, all depicting block-like people making strange gestures with their hands, while stick-like people stood at their giant feet

. Seeing the strange artwork, Cadmus then paused and racked his impressive mind for the answer. In a matter of seconds, several thousand images flashed before his eyes, each depicting some sort of early civilization, until he came to a mental recall of a book describing the Incan Gods, those worshiped by the Incan Empire over a millennium ago.  
Satisfied with his understanding, Cadmus explored the rest of the stately room, until he discovered a near-hidden staircase, of which a person would miss if they didn't look at it from the right perspective.

Looking behind him, Cadmus continued up the crumbled staircase, until he eventually came to a dimly lit, small room. He gasped then, as he took in his surroundings.  
Around him, were hundreds of statues of the Incan Gods, all seemingly made of solid gold. To his slight horror, each of the statues had their golden eyes broken out, leaving each statue 'blind.' After feeling a tickling feel on the back of his neck, he turned to find a strange message painted on the far wall in what most would assume was a golden colored paint, but he guessed otherwise.  
The message wall was in large, rough lettering, written in a language Cadmus didn't recognize, until the gift his father had passed on kicked in, and the message began to shift and translate before his very eyes.  
His eyes widened then at the message, and began to turn in a circle as the lights suddenly brightened.  
The message was repeated hundreds of times, on each wall, even the floor… The same message, over and over again, that confused him to no end.

F **ALSE GODS! FALSE GODS! THE ELDERS WILL RETURN, AND THE WORLD WILL BURN! THE REBORN SHALL DIE, AND THE TURNCOAT WILL RULE OVER THE FOOLISH! THE END TIMES APPROACH, AND THEY SHALL BRING WITH IT, A NEW WORLD!**

After reading the message, Cadmus didn't understand as his vision began to blur, and the writing began to turn into an inky black color. The colors of the room began to swirl around, and the room began to darken quickly until it seemed that he was standing inside of a large shadow. He began to feel an extreme feeling of frost as well, as his bones began to ache, and he began to have issues breathing.  
He spun quickly then when he heard deep chanting, and came face to face with a horrific, tentacled creature. The creature seemed to be a shapeless, black mass of darkness. Tentacles, arms, eyes, and almost any kind of imaginable appendage stick out of it's disgusting form.

Cadmus backed away from the beast, only for it to move closer, muttering in some strange, unknown tongue that hurt his ears just from hearing it. He pressed himself against the farthest wall, closed his eyes, and clamped his hands over his ears in an attempt to will the creature away.

It was just as the creature touched the side of his arm, that Cadmus Peverell blacked out, his fate free from grasp.

The last thing he heard before he drifted off, was a voice calling his name.  
 **"Cadmus!"**

* * *

 **A dark alley, King's Cross Railroad Station, London, Britain**

 **(September 1st, 2015)**

* * *

 **A large man emptied his stomach inside the filthy alley,** as a armor-coated knee slammed into his oversized gut. The assaulter of the man, was none other than Britain's resident Dark Lord, Hadrian 'Scuro' Potter. After hearing an inappropriate comment about his eldest daughter as she passed through the normal station, Scuro had immediately lifted the man up by the neck, and launched the man through the air and into the nearby alley.

The gluttonous muggle had barely any time to react, as Scuro quickly continued his onslaught, going from the kick, straight into slamming the man's beefy fist into his own face. Scuro shrugged off the blood produced by the man's now broken noise, and repeated the attack, until he figured the man had enough. Scuro then moved at a speed that seemed impossible, and slammed the man so hard against the foundation of the station, that the entire building shook.

Just before the man passed out, Scuro stepped right up close to the man, and looked him in the eyes.

"Unless you would like to see me again, keep your mouth shut." Scuro warned in a rough, fury-filled voice as his eyes began to burn like the fires of hell.

"W-what are you?" The muggle groaned, blood pooling out of a deep injury on the back of his skull.

 **"Obliviatus Maximus."**

* * *

 **Did you enjoy? Let me know!**  
Yeah, Scuro gets a bit mad when you mess with his family, especially his daughters.

The reason why Cadmus and Jazmin were not on the express, is that Cadmus and Jazmin were born twelve and ten years (Respectively) after most of the Potter kids were out of Hogwarts. As for the different last names, each of the kids are given their own, or share titles that Scuro holds. (Like how James (The second), Victoria, and Tom all have different last names, even though those three are full siblings.) Also, the surname Atlantes has no connection to "Atlantis." Atlantes was a powerful (Albeit evil) sorcerer.

If you all remember Old Dog 3, when James Potter (The first) makes his announcement, he mentions all of their family titles, which Hadrian gains. These are all of the Potter children now, though their family is far from perfect, as most of them are separated from the others as most of them have different mothers. (Not because I wanted a harem for Hadrian/Scuro, but because he has a lot of titles, and I had some ideas.)

Yes, James Potter (II) is in my universe, essentially Percy Weasley. His personality, and the fact that he moved out. Besides that, (And the fact there are twin, and a bunch of kids) there are not any other comparisons between the Weasleys and the Potters.

Cadmus II is not dead, but you can see that he will be involved in some weird shit. Also, not everything in their family is as it seems. Pay close attention to each of them, as they will be important.  
In this chapter, I also mentioned the Elder Gods, a new prophecy, and some foreshadowing which will be important if I decide to do anything after book 7. ( I probably will.) If I do, I will most likely do a story (Not overly long) for each of the kids.

Well, I guess that's it. Good night all, sleep tight.  
 **-Oscar Unknown**


	16. The Man Who Killed: Progress and Philos-

**Tales Of Black Britain.**

 **Episode Four: The Man Who Killed**

* * *

 **A.N**

* * *

 **Hello there all.**  
I'm continuing from what happened to the characters in the last chapter, and showing off a bit more of the future of Black Britain. I will be revealing some new information about one side of Scuro's family, and the inkling of a prophecy concerning one. The way the Post-Black Britain stories would work, is constant time-jumps. The latest point I will show in this arc, is Cadmus' perspective, which takes place around twelve years after the other perspective I'll show. (Which is the Hogwarts bound Potters. Tom, and etc.)  
I will also show Scuro's perspective at times, but they could be anywhere in time, as he is a time traveler after all.  
Well, not much more to say than that.  
Enjoy, and read on!  
 **-The Dark Tipped Snake**

* * *

 **R &R**

* * *

 **Chapter Three: Progress, and Philosophy**

* * *

 **Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Scotland**

 **(2015)**

* * *

 **Tom Slytherin thought the trip to the castle was brilliant.** A year before, Victoria had given him an old book on Hogwarts, which described how the place used to run, and how it used to work.  
Tom had learned that the train was supposed to stop at a crummy station in that village they passed, and they were supposed to ride in rickety boats over a sea monster-infested lake. What Tom was immensely grateful for, was that fact the train wouldn't stop at the village. His father's train was designed to continue on a rail system that passed right by the village, went through the forbidden forest, across the Black Lake, right to Hogwarts' front door, then all the way back to London.

The view from inside the train was excitement enough, as one minute you were watching the outside of London, then you wouldn't even know where you were. As the train almost rocketed through the United Kingdom, most of the windows showed blurs.  
When the students did arrive at Hogwarts, instead of it being night like when the old express would arrive, it was mid-noon. Of course, Hogwarts had to get a new system going on September firsts, as they couldn't just send the students to bed right after a late lunch. So, the new students were to be given a tour of the castle, while the returning ones were shown their new dormitories for each year.

Tom had been slightly sad though, as during the ride Tom had only seen Victoria a few times, and a flash of James had gone by. Tom had called to his brother, but was hurt as his oldest sibling didn't even spare him a look.

Now, Tom found himself being hustled into the castle among a crowd of first years, his prefect siblings guiding the group, though neither noticed him. He forgot it for now, and followed Scorpio through the hollow halls.  
He was amazed, and amused by the architecture of the castle, as it seemed to be inspired by their own. One good thing about your father destroying and rebuilding your school, there's always a personal touch to it.

After a short walk with the prefects, the first years found themselves standing in a small antechamber to await the sorting ceremony. Unlike the long wait his father had, had to endure, their wait ended almost as soon as it began.

An elegant, and well dressed woman strolled into the room, her impressive dark cobalt cloak billowing in the air behind her. From the right shoulder of her cloak, a sharp-looking Raven crest stood out, it's details extremely well done.  
Her lean face was firm, but not overly aged, as she appeared much younger than the Deputy-Headmistress before her. Her thick brunette hair was braided and balanced into a rounded bun atop her head. Her pair of dark-brown eyes scanned over the crowd, before they landed on Tom, then moved forward.  
Tom smiled at her, as he wondered how long it would take for his 'aunt' to arrive.

"Hello all of you, and welcome to Hogwarts, the greatest wizarding school in all of Europe!" Hermione Jean Black (Nee Granger) exclaimed in a positive tone, as she gestured her arms around in the air, turning slightly as well. "I, am Professor Black, Deputy to the Headmaster, Head of Ravenclaw House, and soon… your new Defense teacher."

Most of the first years seemed excited to be there, but there were a few 'ripe-apples' that sneered at the sight of her, she was well known. Those few survivors that stuck firmly to the light didn't like her very much.

She then began to give a brief description of each of the houses, though her voice would shine when she spoke of her own.  
Not long after she finished her speech, a wide-eyed little girl raised her hand in the air immediately. His aunt grinned at her for some reason, and gave her permission to ask something.

"Professor B-black, you were Mistress of Magic weren't you? For two terms?" The little, nervous girl asked her. Hermione grinned again, and responded in a gentle tone.

"I was, but I decided to retire after my turns. Being the Mistress of Magic was wonderful, but it was a demanding job. I also had a family to take of, and I now regret isolating them for almost twelve years." Hermione answered the girl, who hadn't expected to get an answer to her question, let alone one as detailed as the one she had.

Before Hermione could say more, a tall, thin man with pale skin and short dark brown hair stuck his head in through the Great Hall doors. The sight of the man instantly laid the framework of what would be yet another group of eleven year old girls' crushes on him.

"Hey Her-Professor Black, the headmaster says the sorting can begin." The man told her, a helpful smile on his face. From what they could see of him, the man wore very regal-looking grey robes, with a green-lined silver cloak resting across his upper body. Like Hermione's, a large snake stretched along the length of his cloak, giving a clear indicator of which house the man headed.

"Thank you Theodore- Professor Nott, I will ensure they get there." Hermione formally said, slightly embarrassed that she addressed her friend by his name in front of the first years.

Theodore Nathan Nott just shrugged off the slip up, gave a short wave to the students, and slipped back into the Great Hall.  
Professor Black quickly led them in, leading up through the newest section of Hogwarts. After the war, Scuro had strangely decided to remodel Hogwarts from the roof down, with the Great Hall being the newest section of the castle.

The Hall, and the castle by extension, was much larger than it had originally been. Four different tables still stood out for the colored houses, but now were of a much better quality.  
Surprisingly enough, Scuro had brought in cosmetic enchanters to enchant each table to show stylized (And animated) adventures of each respective founder. It continued even further, as the wall behind the grand Staff table, had a giant carving of Hogwarts castle, which the small founders would visit at the beginning of each meal. It was often a common laugh, when the miniature founders would began to argue, normally ending with Miniature Salazar Slytherin and Godric Gryffindor marching off, screaming out in a high-pitch voice. "I can not work with this man!"

The biggest thing of notice in the Great Hall though, was the Staff table. It looked as if it was made of a bunch of tables, all melded together. At every spot a staff member's seat was, that chair and section of the table matched a style that suited each member. Professor Black's section of the table, was made of a fine, dark-oak wood, that looked to be ancient. (In a good way. ) There was a short blue tablecloth across that section of it, the edges of it sewn-in with the other's unique ones.

Of the staff, there were eleven marvelous seats at the table, though there were twelve people sitting in them. The two that shared, were a strange looking, muscular man with greenish-brown hair, and a young woman with dull crimson hair that was seated across his lap. No one appeared to question the two's intimate seating choice, so Tom ignored them, and walked forward with the group. He noticed that the line was indeed long, though he knew that his name would take a while, it starting with 'S', and the sorting being from A-Z.

While looking over the group, he saw two oddities, those being a extremely muscled Goblin, and a giant spectral bird, each with a seat of their own. (Though the bird's was wore perch-like.)  
Overall, Tom was wondering why exactly his siblings hadn't mentioned the… strange teachers, but he accepted it. He looked straight in front of him when he heard gasps, and noticed his fellow first years looking up for some reason. He did as well, and noticed what seemed to be a bright sunny day on the top of the hall, but that wasn't what had caught their eyes.  
There was a thirteenth member of the staff, an older gentlemen, with a long, rust-colored beard. The strangest thing about the man, he was seated on the ceiling…

Tom was really wondering now if Hogwarts had always been this way. He spent most of the sorting taking in the details of the hall, and barely noticed more gasps, this time focused on him.

"Come on To- Mister Slytherin, it's your turn. The Headmaster will sort you now." Professor Black said politely, gesturing him to the largest chair at the Staff table.  
Sitting inside a large, solid-silver throne…. was the most expensive hat in existence.

The hat was made of a thick, leather material, that looked a lot like black silk, but obviously wasn't as it shone in a way silk couldn't.  
At the ends of it, was a dark silver lining, with black stripes going down the sides of it. In the center of the hat, were two large eyes, that looked as if it had goggles sewn-into the hat itself.

Along the bottom of it, there was a large mouth-like line across it, with what seemed to be stitches leading around the curves of it, making it seem if as it like age lines. Strangely, there was a large green patch sewn into the side of it as well.  
Overall, The Sorting Hat had never looked better.

Tom slowly accepted the fact that a hat ran his school, and just followed his aunt's instruction. She explained what to do, so he gently lifted his… headmaster (That was going to take some getting used to…) up to his head.  
Almost as soon as it touched Tom's head, he felt a strange pressure on his brain.

 _'Ah… another son of Scuro, wonderful! Now… let's see… Dear Merlin, that is odd. I have never seen another member of your family like this.'_ The Sorting Hat thought to the lad, which seemed to just stem nervousness in the boy.

"I-is that a bad thing…?" Tom muttered quietly, his eyes engulfed by the hat, though he was grateful as he could feel the hall watching him.

 _Oh no, a very good thing. You certainly stand out young Thomas. You are almost a polar opposite of your father at this age, yet so similar as well! Now… I believe you've got an appointment with your new housemates, and besides, how could I disrespect your father and your namesake by putting you anywhere else but, SLYTHERIN!'_

Tom lifted the hat off then, and placed the headmaster down in his seat. His eyes widened then, as his bland Hogwarts robes began to change. A green and silver cloak formed around his left shoulder, with what seemed to be vambraces covering his arms. After feeling a sudden weight on his waist, he pulled out what appeared to be a snake-theme sword, shortened to a dagger-like size.

"Slytherins, make sure your new King has a good night." The Sorting Hat said with a chuckle, giving the shocked Tom a wink, before giving the signal for the house elves to began the Welcoming Lunch.

Tom Slytherin had wanted a nice, easy, and calm year with his siblings, as they always seemed so busy.  
 **Well, now he would be too…**

* * *

 **The Crooked Manor, Potter Estates, Pevenno, Britain**

 **(July 28, 2027)**

* * *

 **Cadmus Peverell woke up with a start.**  
Instead of awakening inside of a dark, evil temple, he was inside… his bed?  
He looked around him, and found himself inside his room at their manor, everything exactly like it was supposed to be. He layed back down on his mattress, and pulled his orange comforter over him, as he thought back to what happened.  
It was only when he heard a soft knock on his bedroom door, that he really realized what had happened.

As he didn't answer, a familiar person walked into his room, a small smile worming it's face onto his face. His mother sat beside him, and looked at him in an analyzing way, before she began to speak softly to him.

"You had another vision… didn't you Cadmus?" Luna Contessa Peverell asked her son, as she had known he had. Though she had passed on the status of seer through his birth, she had some connection to the sight still, which normally told her when he had a recognition attack.

"I… I did. It was… horrible, and… confusing," Cadmus muttered, trying to remain calm as his mind brought back the fresh memories from the temple's hidden chamber. "You sent Jazmin and I, to go to Peru to find… a heliopath in a temple. We got separated… and I found a bunch of Incan religion pieces. I… found a room after… full of blind statues. I-i saw a message too, something about elders returning, and a reborn dying… then I saw some… monster."

At that, he grunted in pain, as his vision shifted, and he **disappeared from his comfortable home once more.**

* * *

 **The Sealed Dimension**

* * *

 **When Cadmus opened his eyes, he wished he hadn't.**  
He was floating inside a place, the likes of which he had never seen. The landscape did not have much of a physical shape, but looked more like a ghost of a world, than anything else.  
He became near-scarred then, when he noticed the gigantic beings that floated along with him.  
Many of them looked more or less alike, giant formless beings with eyes. Cadmus was completely surrounded by these creatures, though thankfully none had noticed him yet.  
He noticed they all were focused together, so he looked forwards, to seal a creature far larger than the others. It looked completely unique, as instead of a floating abomination, this one was strangely humanoid.  
The being was taller than all of the rest (Even though the rest floated), and wore a bright yellow cloaked, robe over it's body. From what features Cadmus could make out of the being, it looked kind of octopus like, as it had hundreds of tentacles trailing from under it's robes, and had some drooping from it's face.

Cadmus watched, as a reddish blob, with hundreds of eyes floated over to the yellow creature.

 ** _"HASTUR, MY LORD! WHEN WILL THE RIFT OPEN? WE HAVE WAITED, AND YOU HAVE SAID IT WOULDN'T BE ANOTHER CENTURY!"_ ** The red blob screamed out in a nasally voice, though the yellow figure seemed relatively unaffected.

 **"The time will come, but the reborn must rise first. The lost will be vital, but he must start his path first."** Hastur, the leader of the Sealed Elders, spoke out to the questioner. Cadmus scoffed, he had guessed that this was connected, as they were far too similar to the creature he had seen in his last vision. Being forced to endure these creature's presence was wearing down on him, but he held on. He had to know more.

 _ **"HOW DO WE EVEN KNOW THE LOST KNOWS OF US? HOW WOULD THE LOSS FIND THEIR WAY?!"** _ Red blob asked again, only to find itself exploding into bits of gore seconds later. Hastur then made a low, scratchy, nails on a chalkboard-like sound. Cadmus figured then, that Hastur was laughing.

 **"You see… you simpletons, the Lost is already here… aren't you little one?"** Hastur asked in a booming voice, as the being looked right at Cadmus. Golden eyes met silver.  
Cadmus held his focus for as long as he could, before he felt himself falling forward, only to begin to sink into what seemed to be a sea of ink.  
He fell far below the surface, and even farther away from Hastur's domain.  
Cadmus opened his eyes in the darkness, when he felt the familiar, and reliable pull that told him he was being pulled back to reality.  
Right before he could leave the demonic world, he heard a calm, echoey voice say something.

 **"Sometimes, you must be found… to be lost. I await you in R'lyeh…"**

* * *

 **The Globe Theatre, Maiden Lane, Southwark, London**

 **(April 23rd, 1595)**

* * *

 **"So… why is he killing himself?"** Daphne Aliza Potter asked her husband, as she watched the young, handsome actor drink a vial of liquid, and pretend to die.

"Romeo kills himself out of sadness, as he believes that Juliet is dead. Shakespeare wrote it as a deathly, sad play on the hardships and lengths that people go to for love." Scuro explained, his arm around his wife as they continued watching the play, only for her to have another question a minute later.

"Oh, that's stupid! Now she kills herself?! Why?" Daphne asked, extreme disbelief in her tone, as she looked to him for answers.

"It is intended to be a tragedy, of which I had assumed would be understood by those watching. I estimate I was wrong, so I apologize if my meaning has flown over thou heads." A preppy, noble voice explained, as a man walked up to them carefully. Scuro looked over at the newcomer, a young man wearing black noblemen clothing. The Bard himself had arrived.

"No, I apologize for my wife's words, she had not many experiences with the theatre." Scuro said quickly, and smoothly, before extending his hand to the poet. "Lord Hadrian James Scuro, ruler of the Kingdom of Pevenno."

The man accepted Scuro's hand, and shook with him, before bowing slightly, though he seemed mighty nervous. It was obvious to Scuro that the man was upset that Daphne was inside his theater, but the man decided to be smart, and polity responded to his greeting.

 **"I understand completely my Lord, my name, is William Shakespeare."**

* * *

 **Classroom 3C, The Third Floor, Hogwarts, Scotland**

 **(Thursday, September 3rd, 2015)**

* * *

 **Tom made his way from the Grand Hall,** and headed towards where he was told his first defense class would be. It was his third day at the castle, and his technical second day in his schooling, when his times table demanded he attend Defense with the Gryffindors... Now he found himself on the third floor of the castle, inside a strangely barren classroom. He had expected his aunt's classroom to be like a library, full of books and knowledge about anything and everything, but it was just… empty.  
He walked into the room, and sat down in one of the small desks throughout the classroom.  
He looked around him, and heard what seemed to be whispering, before the classroom was shrouded in darkness. He panicked then, before the lights returned, and he found himself inside the library-like room he had expected before.  
Around him, were around thirty students, all who looked as surprised as him. The classroom now had many different bookcases covering the walls, the gaps between filled with statues of different dark creatures, one of which was a wizard.  
Tom looked forward then, and spotted his aunt, who was seated at her desk, a unhappy look on her face.

"I see none of you could figure it out… Ten points from Slytherin and Gryffindor." Professor Black said, as she looked at each of them with a disappointed look, before asking her question."Is there any of you that could figure out what happened?"

When none of the first years could answer, it was her assistant a thin, young brunette teenager that answered her question in a low voice, that somehow held all of the weight Tom's father would carry in his speeches. Tom didn't know who the boy was, but he paid attention.

"Professor Black used a open-concealment charm on her classroom, which caused all of you to not even notice the people around you. You all walked into a trap, and would have died if this wasn't a highly secured school." The teen said in a voice, which suggested that the trick was common knowledge, and made them all think that they were stupid in some way or another.

"Very good Dean, ten points to Ravenclaw." Professor Black said, before turning back to the class. She began to introduce herself once again to them, and give a brief description of her class, only to be interrupted when a horrid red haired girl spoke up. Molly Weasley was frankly, an idiot.

"I can't believe a mudblood is teaching us defense." The girl exclaimed to absolutely no one, but stopped quickly, when her head smashed forward into her desktop.  
The students all cringed, as the sound of Molly's nose breaking was heard clearly. Professor Black just grinned.

 **"Lesson one, the next person to say that word gets thrown off the roof."**

* * *

 **Classroom 7C, The Seventh Floor, Hogwarts, Scotland**

 **(Friday, September 4th, 2015)**

 **"Do any of you know, who I am?"** The rusty haired professor asked, his eyes narrowed as he looked over the group of first years. They all shook their heads, as none of them really knew who the strange man was, or why he had taken to eating meals on the ceiling.

At their answer, the professor smiled to himself, as if he was delighted by the fact he was still unknown.

"Good... Well, you may call me Salem, and I am your Evolution of Magic teacher." The man, Salem explained, as his chosen name appeared on the corner of his aged chalk board.

At the mention of his name, a young muggleborn boy had a question, which Professor Salem allowed.

"Professor, are you from Salem?" The boy, Dale Horton asked the question many of them had.

"Where and what is Salem?" The professor asked, honestly wondering what the boy was talking about. To the old man's knowledge, he had been using the name since his birth, which brought back memories of capotains and waistcoats. He remembered as well, a man he had helped long ago, a mister Roger. He remembered how he had led the man in the new world, and remembered a promise the man had given him when they had found a patch of land for Roger's family. Roger had said he would name the settlement... after him.

Salem nodded at this, and just ignored the boy's answer, as it clarified to him what had happened.

"I... I guess I am from Salem, as I technically found it." Salem said cryptically, as he settled down in an old armchair at the front of the class. He frowned then, as he missed the feeling of his blood pooling upward, it did so often give them the wildest ideas for new spells. He figured he would have to speak with the headmaster about permission to mount this chair to the ceiling as well.

Many of the young students seemed shock that they were in the presence of a near four-hundred-year-old wizard, one that also started one of the earliest thriving points for Wizarding kind.

 **"Now! Who wants to make some magic?"**

* * *

 **Did you all enjoy? I hope you did.**

There is a prophecy concerning Cadmus, but much older than mankind in itself, going back to the imprisonment of the Elder Ones.  
I'm going to do more with the future of Black Britain later on, either after I finish the main series, or Tales of Black Britain. (I have planned a season two of sorts, and have a few people in mind to lead the arcs.)

Salem is an interesting character that I am creating, as I wanted someone from the Colonial Period, who also could be an interesting (Albeit eccentric) professor. Kind of like, if Dumbledore had still been fun, and useful in the books, rather than manipulative like he was.  
Anyway, don't have much else to say.  
Goodbye, have a good night.  
 **-The Dark Tipped**


	17. The Man Who Killed: YANA

**Tales Of Black Britain.**

 **Episode Four: The Man Who Killed**

* * *

 **A.N**

* * *

 **Hello there all of you.**

Here is one of our five presents to you all, a new chapter of Tales to go along with the new Last Yokai, Steel Front, Peverell Edition, and Devil's Advocates.  
This last chapter of The Man Who Killed will cover more of Scuro's reign over Black Britain, some of the events that happened when he was first getting used to being Scuro, his self-imposed exile, and more. (Think about the time that Bruce Wayne was gone for, before he became Batman.) I will also be giving you all a short look at a character that will have an arc in Season Two of Tales. As usual, I will be be showing a preview of the next Episode of Tales, the finale. (That protagonist is going to be shown in the preview, try not get them confused with the other character.)  
Any Whovians out there should understand what this chapter name refers to, and there is good reason.  
Anyway, merry Christmas and all that.  
 **-The Dark Tipped Snake**

* * *

 **R &R**

* * *

 **Episode End: YANA**

* * *

 **25.0000° N, 71.0000° W**

 **( December 31st, 1999, Scuro's Exile.)**

* * *

 **Lord Scuro Potter looked around him,** at the strange island he found himself on.  
He hadn't expected to arrive on an island, but he figured that the person he seeked would choose someplace like this. Far out, and isolated.

He had decided the year before to leave his home behind, the government safe in the hands of his friends... and lovers. He now was searching for the first person on a long list of people he had been given years before, one of which he had a connection. What it was, he had absolutely no clue.  
All he knew, was that the man knew his parents, so much that they had planned for the man to raise him if the worst had happened.

Now Scuro found himself on a deserted island in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, New Year's day, where a century-old Portkey had taken him. It had been pure luck that he had found the portkey inside the American Department of Mysteries, but pure chance that it would actually work. He had half expected to get splinched halfway to hell and back.

He looked around him, and saw a small, junk of a shack standing before him. Just by the looks of the place, any mundane would simply see a ruined mess of a building standing there, but Scuro saw through the charm in a second.  
Now, he saw what appeared to be a colonial homestead, complete with a home run farm behind.

Scuro stepped across the threshold of the homestead, and smirked as he felt a subtle magical wave rumble across the land, obviously alerting the sole wizard of his presence.  
This was what he wanted of course.

He started treading across the farm, his Ebony-steel boots sinking into the soft dirt of the hill, traces of mud sticking into the crevices of the metal.  
He made his way up to the porch of the farmhouse, stopping in front of the grand wooden door, where a bronze doorknocker hung.

He looked over the knocker, and activated his Mage Sight after getting a feeling, and was right. Lying hidden on the simple metal instrument, was an extremely overpowered banishing charm, which would most likely have blasted him back to Britain.  
With a snap, he cancelled the charm, and defiantly lifted, and then dropped the knocker against the door. Scuro grinned at the loud echo that rung out.

After waiting for what seemed to be two hours, of which Scuro didn't move a single muscle, an elderly man with hair the color of rusted copper answered the door.  
The man just looked at him with an extremely angry off look, and crazy eyes that tried to scare him away, before settling down to a simple annoyed look.

"Who the hell are you, and why won't you people leave me alone?" The man, who Scuro assumed was the man that once held the status of America's Unspeakable Master, Master Salem, said in a desperate tone.

"I am the Dark Lord Scuro, I have come to learn from you." Scuro said with a respectful tone, forcing a determined look on his features.

"No, really… who the hell are you?" Salem asked him, an amused look crossing onto his face, giving Scuro the impression that he wasn't the first person to come to the Ancient man for training.

Scuro scoffed, before giving into the man's demand reluctantly.

"I'm Hadrian James Potter, and you knew my parents." Hadrian muttered, figuring the man would remember his parents, and agree to teach him.

 **"I did?"**

* * *

 **Salem's Island, the Bermuda Triangle, North Atlantic Ocean**

 **(Sunday, March 27th, 2000. The second year of Scuro's exile.)**

* * *

 **Scuro fought against a swarm of stone golems,** the nearest of the group nearly decapitating him with it's scythe-like arm.  
After the rock Goliath stumbled forward, Scuro flipped over the creature's back, before slamming the hilt of Slytherin's sword into the golem's neck.  
With a loud groan, the creature reeled from the impact, and crumbled into a mess of stone rumble.  
The first golem defeated, Scuro made a soaring leap through the air, landing a heavy fall atop another, breaking it's face apart as it's face met the steel of his sword.  
Before he could rest, yet another golem came at him, determined to defeat him. Scuro ducked below the creature's razor-sharp appendages, before twisting his arm upwards, the hilt of the sword smashing the creature's entire head apart. Scuro let loose a chuckle at the creature's shocked face, before he rushed another, and then another at that.

His fight only ended, when he heard the sound of someone clapping for his performance. He slung himself around the shoulders of the last golem, and held his blade to the creature's neck, ensuring that his seat wouldn't move from underneath him.  
He turned his attention to where his audience was, and saw his current mentor, Salem standing there impressed by the fight. Well, he thought the look on Salem's face was one of impression, but he could easily have been wrong as the man was hard to read.

Telling that the man wanted to speak, Scuro blazed from the creature's shoulders, and appeared beside the older man, who turned to the exact spot he would be in, before he appeared there.

He didn't wonder how the man knew he would be there, as the man always knew what he would do.  
He stopped asking questions after three months.

"Hey Salem, what is it?" Scuro asked him, as the man never left the majority of the homestead, and almost never went to the clearing where Scuro regularly trained during the day.

"Just wanted to give you a little something." Salem said with a cheerful tone, handing Scuro a heavy… egg? Instead of thanking the eccentric man, Scuro just raised an eyebrow at the strange gift.

"What, it's Easter? Don't tell me you don't like chocolate…" Salem asked him, the question becoming suddenly serious, as if there would be dire consequences if Scuro said anything about not liking chocolate.

"N-no… I like chocolate, it's just that I don't celebrate Easter often, and that it's easy to lose track of time here. What month is it?" Scuro explained, wondering why the man just decided to be random for the day.

"I have no idea, I thought you were keeping track of the day's…" Salem muttered, confusion evident in his voice. Seriously, some days the man was senile, and on others, it was if the man knew all.

"No, I haven't…. How did you know if it was Easter?"

"I didn't… I just thought it was time for it to be Easter…." Salem muttered to himself, unknowing that he was actually right about the date.

"Whatever… Did you interrupt me just to give me a chocolate egg?" Scuro asked, slightly annoyed that the man had bothered him during his training, but decided to ignore it.  
Until the man's answer...

 **"Yep!"**

* * *

 **Salon-de-Provence, France**

 **(February 13th, 1564. The third year of Scuro's exile.)**

* * *

 **"Hello there Hadrian Potter…"** A rattly, old voice called out into the dark room, the only one to hear it being the twenty-year old the man had addressed.  
Scuro was utterly surprised that the man knew him, but should have known that the man would.

He was Nostradamus after all.

"Michel… Good day to you… A question if I may, have we met before this very day?" Scuro asked him in fluent french, adjusting his sentence to match the lingo of the time.

"Oh, we have… many times…. You are so young my friend…" Michel De Nostradamus, the most famous mystic the world had ever known, told his decades old friend with a sense of longing. Michel did yearn for the days where his friend and himself wore the other's shoes, Michel young, and Scuro old. Michel had indeed met Scuro before, but never this early in the dark lord's life.

"T-thank you Michel, but I have a question for you. Could you teach me what you know of the Mystic Arts?" Scuro asked, as he had come to the man to learn the mystical arts. He had chosen the exact year, as Nostradamus would be far in his own craft, and still two years from his death.

"I am sorry my friend… but the gift has left me…My last vision… is to reassure you… You do not need to walk this dreary road… My boy… You, are not… alone." Michel sputtered out his last words, before his beating heart came to a sudden, slow stop.  
This was the first time that Scuro's presence alone shifted time from it's plan, ending the life of Michel Nostradamus two years early.  
 **And it scared the hell out of him.**

* * *

 **Führerbunker, Berlin, Germany**

 **(April 30th, 1945)**

* * *

 **In an underground bunker,** surrounded by soldiers of many kinds, a messy man stood waiting for the end.  
Adolf Hitler, the demon of Germany, was debating the end of his life. In his right hand, he held a Walther PPK pistol. In the other, he held a package of Cyanide pills. To the side of Adolf, his wife sat in a chair, worrying about the safety of their bunker, and whether or not it would hold out against the soldiers onslaught. Unknown to the two of them, a lone figure stood hidden behind them, the shadows of the bunker hiding him completely.

A voice whispered something then, in a tone that wasn't heard, a simple word.  
"Impero…"

To Adolf's surprise, he found himself lifting his pistol to his head, and pressing it against his forehead. His brief wife, Eva Braun looked over at him in concern.

"Is it time?" She asked him, grabbing the Cyanide package from his grasp.

Adolf was struggling to pull the pistol away from his forehead, to say no to her, but found himself responding against his will.

"Yes…"

Eva nodded solemnly, a single tear falling from her eye as she popped two pills out of the plastic package.

Before Adolf could do anything else, he was forced to pull the trigger, and the world knew no more of Adolf Hitler.  
Seconds later, his wife followed.

"That… was surprisingly easy. Wow." The stranger, actually Scuro Potter exclaimed, as he thought over the fact that he actually killed Hitler. **"Why does everyone say you shouldn't kill Hitler? Damn Nazi sympathizers..."**

* * *

 **Potter Cottage, Godric's Hollow, England.**  
 **( October 31st, 1981/ October 31st, 2013)**

* * *

 **It wasn't surprising to Scuro,** that he once again was standing outside of the cottage.  
He often came back to the cottage, either where it once stood in the present, or during times when his parents were still alive, and hiding out inside his great-uncle's cottage.  
He hadn't gone back to That Night in over ten years, but now found himself there on the thirty-second anniversary of their deaths.  
He watched Dumbledore tread up to the cottage, his father fight against the man, Dumbledore mounting the staircase up to Lilith Potter, Dumbledore rushing down the stairs to escape, and then his younger self lighting the house aflame.

Everything seemed to be happening once again, the way it always did. Normally he would leave by the time the half-giant came for his infant self… but this time he decided to stick around.  
He was glad that he did.

At a minute to one, Scuro heard a loud noise, a sound much like a crackling campfire, emerge from the burned house.  
Pulling his Battle-Staff from his holster, and lighting a hand up with emerald flames, Scuro walked to the wreckage of his once, temporally home.  
He didn't know what he was looking for, but that sound was much too similar to Blazation to be anything else. He only knew one person besides himself that could Blaze, and it just wasn't. It just couldn't be….

He blasted a hunk of the roof aside, and looked at the remains of the living room, and found the usual furniture within. The chairs burnt, the piano crushed, the picture frames all reduced to shards and sticks. The upper floor collapsed, the nursery fallen inside of the kitchen, his old crib laying atop the stove. None of that caught his attention, but something else did.  
 **James Lloyd Potter's body was gone.**

* * *

 **The Ruins of Pevenno, Britain**

 **(2035)**

* * *

 **On a solemn day,** four brothers will meet in a wasteland they once called home. They each fought a war, against each other and the world, an army at each of their beck and calls.

 **The First Brother,** the Hero that was willing to play with monsters and use the darkest of magic possible, was content to end the war he now found himself in, along with the war that raged through time and space. He had traveled through the pits of hell, seen the worst of creation, and had come to save the whole of humanity. There were no wizards and muggles to him, only humans.

 **The Second Brother,** the Liar who wouldn't die in vain, fought only for himself and those he called his. A selfish life suited him very well. While three of the four worked against the fourth, this brother didn't care for the well being of his brothers, only for himself and his people. This brother was willing to kill and destroy, just to come out on top.

 **The Third Brother,** the Little Boy who didn't want to let go, fought with all of his might, just to bring back a bit of joy into the hellish life he now lived. This brother was fueled by memories, and the anger that filled him, that the life he knew was over. This brother seeked to prove himself, and avenge his father.

 **The Fourth and final Brother,** the Traitor who ran away, cared not for the health of his family. This brother was cloaked by the power of the good, and saw no respite in the shadows. This brother would do anything, and everything to do what he thought was the right thing. This brother wouldn't stop, until he brought the light back, and changed Black Britain, into a terrible white.  
On a solemn day, four brothers will meet… **And three shall die.**

* * *

 **Did you all enjoy? Let me know!**  
The chapter is kind of short, but I did have to work on two chapters, and my job, and getting the apartment decorated for christmas. (And having to sort through the mail from my and Ryan's families, as he's lazy.)  
My job is also hectic this time of the year, as I mentioned on the new Peverell Edition chapter.  
Well, this is a cliffhanger here, and now yet another prophecy, which won't be relevant for a long time. This one, covers the end of the entire series, and what I refer to as "The Apocalypse Ending," where I will bring hellfire upon Britain, and literally turn brother against brother. That will be probably the darkest I'll go in the series. (Book 7 is going be dark too, and book ⅚ as well.) You should be able to figure out which of the brothers is which. Also, tell me, who would be the true evil out of the four brothers? Remember, the road to Hell is paved with good intentions… and a dark mind is the brightest during war.  
Anyway, have a nice Christmas all of you, and here's the preview! In first person too!  
 **-DTS.**

* * *

 **The Last Tale: One of Many**

* * *

 **Anger.**

That was the first thing I felt when I died.  
Everyone used to tell me that dying wouldn't be so bad, that I would be able to see my loved ones, and move onto the 'Next Great Adventure.'  
They were telling me lies, dying is the most painful thing I've ever felt, Crucio be damned.

Confusion was the next feeling I had felt, which kept up with me for a while, blinding me slightly.  
Mainly, I was confused by the entire events that led to my death, just how it all could happen.  
I mean, I died twice in one night. How does that happen?

My… second death, seemed to be a grand, orchestrated play, with me at the center. The entire thing seemed to fit together much better than it should, as everything fell into line perfectly. Like a row of dominoes, with me at the end.

The muggles say that with death, comes the answer to the meaning of life, and some other dragon shit.

I, frankly have learned nothing from being dead, no secret knowledge, no idea about what awaits me at the bright light at the end of the tunnel. I'm clueless, and now I'm stuck inside an office room of some sort, with a creepy guy in a suit.

Apparently… I'm not done yet.

Some days, **I really wish I wasn't Harry Potter...**

 **(Coming soon, most likely around New Year's, or early January.)**


	18. One of Many: All Harry's go to Hell

**Tales Of Black Britain.**

 **The Last Tale: One of Many**

* * *

 **A.N**

* * *

 **Hey guys,** my concussion is gone now, and I've gotten my head checked out. I actually have a cut on my forehead kind of like Harry Potter's scar now… but it's just a jagged line across my right temple. Anyway, I'm back with the last Tales arc. (That is, until I eventually make a new season of it.)  
It's going to be a slight crossover with another one of our stories, and is going to give some insight on both this story, and that one's universes.  
It's going to cover (slightly) canon Harry, and what connection he actually has to the entire Black Britain series. There will be four chapters to this arc, just like the others if you wondered. This is just the finale story arc.  
A few of you actually started to catch to this arc's plot all the way back in Stone of Life. Congratulations, you were kind of right. (I originally hoped to cover this in book 5, and probably will still, just not in this depth.)  
Anyway, enjoy.  
 **-The Dark Tipped Snake**

* * *

 **R &R**

* * *

 **The Last Tale: All Harry's go to Hell…**

* * *

 **"There are an unlimited amount of realities,** all running parallel to our own. Many are essentially the same, with minor differences… but some are drastically different from the others. Each of these realities branch off into even more realities depending on where those ended, but each is derived from one sole reality. The Prime Reality, from which all others take their framework from, and from where all others differ. In other cases, there can be a reality that is the farthest offshoot of the Prime, called the End Reality. In that, the world is almost unrecognizable from the former, and could work completely different from the Prime. A completely different world, with no constants related to the Prime, only original acts of creation.

All other realities hang in the balance between the two, but where though realities land, **depends purely on chance."**

* * *

 **Bloodshot images flashed before his eyes.**  
He saw a war, where hundreds fell before his eyes.  
He saw people cry for his help, and many die trying to help him, just as many had before them.  
He saw a demon of a man, who was was willing to kill anyone to get to him. The man once known as Voldemort had been determined to destroy him.  
He remembered the relief he had known, when he had finally defeated the man, but now he only saw a quick blur of the reptilian man's death.  
He saw a quick flash of a curved bloody dagger appear, before it quickly vanished, and pain erupted throughout his body, freezing him in place. He then saw an image of a tile of blood-stained flooring, and heard a shrill scream of terror.  
He finally saw a pair of chilling blue eyes, **and then the haunting images came to an end…**

* * *

 **Harry James Potter woke with a start.**  
The last thing he had known, he had been having an intimate moment with his ex-girlfriend, when suddenly everything went black. Now, he found himself in some kind of office room. The walls were an almost blood-red color, and were made more vibrant by the old-fashioned oil gas lamps that hung on the walls.  
He looked around, and found many more things inside of the office, that held both elements of an old world charm, and many things that Harry could only assume were muggle.  
He leaned down in the strangely comfortable armchair he was in, and looked around the room, for anyone that could answer where he was.  
Eventually a loud thud echoed in the room, as a previously unseen door opened and closed, and a man in a muggle suit walked in.

The man took a seat at the large desk before him, and Harry got a good look at the man. The suit was made of a fine material, which Harry assumed was expensive, and made Harry feel slightly under dressed in… Harry just noticed that he now wore red and grey muggle clothing, complete with a felt baseball cap with a black lightning bolt on the front. He shrugged at the outfit, and turned back to look at the 'business man.'

"Hello there Mister Potter, now I'm sure you have some questions, you always do… " The man said cryptically, as if he knew that Harry would ask questions, although any logical person would in his situation.

"What do you- Where am I?" Harry asked, taking a look out of the man's windows, and saw that it was night, and to his horror the clouds were a threatening reddish shade.

 _Where the hell am I?_ He thought to himself, his mind coming up with various different explanations, and he didn't like a single one of them.

The man smiled fondly at him, and patiently answered him in an honest voice.

"You're in Hell Harry. I'm Lucifer, as you keep referring to me as such." The man, Lucifer told him, once more hinting at some unknown knowledge. Harry was quickly getting annoyed at the man giving Harry even more confusion.

"Wh-why do you keep saying thing like that… You act like you know me, but I've never seen you before." Harry sputtered out, slightly shocked at the Hell answer, but more confused at what the man suggested.

"Because, I do. Maybe not, this you, but I have known many different versions of Harry Potter. I'm even very close with one of them, and have been training him and his friends." Lucifer answered him finally, while smiling slightly creepily as the chalk-pale man took a short trip down memory lane.

"T-that's impossible.. How can there be more of me?" Harry asked, lost now in the conversation, as he had never heard even remotely a reference to different worlds.

"Because Harry, you are just one Harry, in a gigantic wave of Harry Potter's, one in almost every single universe. There are some where Harry Potter doesn't exist, but those are very few compared to the one's where you do." Lucifer droned on, giving him an in depth, but understandable lesson about how the universe's worked with his existence.

"So… There's a bunch of different versions of me out there, all living their lives out? Have they defeated Voldemort yet?" Harry asked, just poking at the idea of his alternate selves.

"Some have, some haven't, some have been defeated by him… and some have joined him." Lucifer said, slowly addressing the idea of an inner darkness to the 'light' teenager. To his delight, Harry didn't seem to overly adverse to the idea, only slightly grimacing.

"What happened to me?" Harry asked in a quiet whisper of a voice, as he realized that he really didn't matter in the entire multiverse, as there were many different Harry Potter's. All of them different, but he wanted to know what made him different.

"You've forgotten already? Strange… " Lucifer mumbled, as he stroked his pointed chin, a goatee forming just as he touched his jawline. Harry figured that the devil could do anything he wanted, cosmetics would probably be easy for him.

Harry frowned at the mention of it being strange, and tried to remember what happened, and only remembered the last few years of his life, and the brief parts he had seen in the blood-splattered images.  
He wondered then, what remained for him now? The supposed Boy-who-lived left to rot his afterlife away in Hell, for a reason he truly didn't understand.

"Lucifer, what do I do now? What am I supposed to do for the rest of eternity…?" Harry muttered out the question, as he was worrying about his future, or lack of it.

"Well Harry, that truly depends on you. You can reside here forever, living the lap of luxury, as I do well to treat my Harry's with the best I can offer…" Lucifer explained, ending the sentence with a snap. With it, piles of gold filled the room, and Harry's clothing was replaced with royal robes befitting that of royalty. He could feel the soft material rub against his skin, the robes pulling him down into the nice warmth of the ensemble. Harry could get very used to this.

"Or, we could go with another little idea of mine… " Lucifer offered him, and smiled slightly when Harry perked up at something new on the table. Harry rolled his fingers, as if to encourage the deity to continue, which he did with just a roll of the eyes.

"You see, I give each Harry an offer or two, but it fully relies on the circumstances surrounding that Harry. The one I normally deal with, I gave four, as he wasn't suppose to die at that point, and Elo- God was intervening." Lucifer explained, his voice taking on a mocking tone near the end, implying that the two didn't share very good relations.

"So… What's mine?" Harry asked, a small flicker of hope filling his chest at whatever Lucifer could offer. Lucifer's smile stretched across his face, as if he so wanted him to ask that.

 **"You ever seen the movie Dumbo?"**

* * *

 **Harry Potter was deep inside his own mind.**  
Lucifer had explained what Harry would have to do, and it ate away at his heart bit by bit, literally.  
He was inside of what Lucifer referred to as, a Mental Memory Sphere, a device used to hold memories… Now, he found himself looking over each memory, from every single one of his seventeen years of life. Locking each and every one of them away, waiting for a day that they might be needed, but not anytime soon.  
It took him several mental hours for him to traverse his memories, and even longer to lock them all away.  
It took even longer to forget the day he met his friends, but he did nevertheless. Harry Potter didn't matter anymore. he knew that.  
Whoever came next, was the one that mattered.  
Harry Potter would die, and **a new man would go sauntering away…**

* * *

 **So, did you all enjoy? Hope you did.**  
It's taken me a little while to write this up, as things are still rough. I don't want to say too much about this arc, but it ties in with strange events from every single Black Britain book so far. (The muttered voices Hadrian was hearing, were memories slipping in.)  
I will leave the readers to digest and analyse the chapter.  
I need some sleep badly, so good night everyone.  
 **-Oscar**


	19. One of Many: Retrospective

**Tales Of Black Britain.**

 **The Last Tale: One of Many**

* * *

 **A.N**

* * *

 **Hello everyone,** I'm back.  
Like I said last time, I've recovered now, and it's back to business as usual. I'm back in my classes, and I've take a small break from writing.  
I finally finished Fallout 4's story, the Railroad and I stomped all over the Institute, and I really want to get the Fallout Anthology now to relieve the greater days. I really wish Bethesda would make remasters, as I would love three and New Vegas on PS4.  
Anyway, back on topic. Here's a new chapter of One of Many, and it's this Harry reflecting on his life, and his choices on it. His memories will rush by him, he'll notice some things he's missed, and meet someone who will have a big impact on him.  
 **-The Dark Tipped Snake**

* * *

 **R &R**

* * *

 **Disclaimer: (If I even have to anymore)** Harry Potter belongs to Ms. Rowling, and Devil's Advocates' plot and AU belongs to Ryan.

* * *

 **Chapter Two: Retrospective**

* * *

 **Memory Sphere, Hell**

* * *

 **It was only with recollection** , that Harry truly noticed how stupid he had been over the years.  
Being friends with Ronald Weasley had been a bad call on his part all together, primarily because Ron had been an unneeded distraction. Really, he didn't have the Dursleys around to force him to get bad grades, so he could have done as well as possible at Hogwarts.

Ronald Weasley had caused him to barely pass his OWLs, and caused him to become one of the lowest scored Hogwarts students in a century. Ironic, as he had been the youngest seeker, and highest ranked DADA student in a century as well…

Harry also noticed all of the problems and faults his 'friend' had as well, and only found himself even more angry upon watching his memories of his first and fourth years as well. Watching Ron's insults to poor twelve-year old Hermione, and his total betrayal during the tournament hit Harry hard. He supposed the ginger had never really been his friend, especially during the Horcrux hunt.

He also started to realize how much of an effect Hermione and his other friends had on his life, surprisingly Neville Longbottom came to mind fairly often. 'Shy, little Neville' had stood up to the trio in first year, actually given him a solution to the Second Task, had joined him on that infamous day at the Department of Mysteries, and had even cut down Riddle's snake in the final battle.

 _Why the hell did I even become friends with Ron? Was the chess challenge in first year the only time he really helped me? Why didn't I choose Neville as my 'best mate'?_ Harry thought to himself, as he contemplated his life, floating by in the inky blackness of the sphere. He was honestly surprised he had survived seven years with that red-haired idiot by his side, as the only thing Ron taught him, was that in a game of chess.  
 **You sometimes have to sacrifice the pawn…**

* * *

 **What did he ever see in Cho Chang?** Really?

The girl had been beautiful of course, beyond it in fact. She had even loved Quidditch as well, which had been a positive check in his book. He at least would have something to talk about with her, unlike most of Hogwart's witches… Then Cedric was… murdered, and all the credibility Cho had, evaporated into thin air.  
Harry didn't blame Cedric or his death for essentially breaking Cho, or her for mourning him, as Harry himself did spend a long while thinking over Cedric's death, and his role in it. The thing that had turned him off Cho, had been the fact she only dated him, purely to feel closer to Cedric in a way. She had even admitted it in their sixth year, and had apologized to him, claiming that Harry reminded her of Cedric in a way.  
That, had been a bit heartbreaking, being dated only because an innocent man died by his side… He wondered what she was doing now, now that both Cedric and he had died.

 _Would she go after Neville now? Claiming he reminded her of me?_ He thought, watching as the memory of the seventh year sobbed into his chest when she admitted she had used him, breaking his heart a little. Even by the time he had grown close to Ginny, the older girl had still held a little piece of his heart by that point, until she shattered it fully. That didn't help his self-esteem very much.  
Then, his heartbroken little self was dating his biggest fangirl…

"Why the bloody hell did I even date her…?" Harry asked the eery silence of his bubble-like surroundings. Of course, nothing answered him… **thankfully.**

* * *

 **Ginny Weasley, his technical little sister.**  
He knew something had to be wrong with him, just from being attracted to the little redhead, as she looked not only like his mother, but also looked like what he assumed a little sister of his would.

His mother's hair color, his father's eye color, frankly… it was scary in a way, and made him feel like a disturbed pervert thinking of her even a little lewdly.  
Even more, she had acted like a total shy, little sister to himself for years. She had just been 'Ron's little sister,' the girl who could only whisper and blush to him.

 _When the hell did she start actually talking to me? And why the hell did I even start thinking of her as anything other than a sister_? Harry thought, a sudden revelation coming to him, as a new series of **memories played before his eyes.**

* * *

 **Harry found himself inside the Gryffindor common room,** standing before Ronald Weasley, who looked slightly crazed and puffed up with adrenaline. The ginger started to rant and rave then about some girl, which Harry had originally thought was Hermione, but now knew was actually Romilda Vane. Even now, Harry was thankful Ron was a glutton, and had munched up those little love-infused Cauldron Cakes before he could.  
After grabbing Ron's shoulder, and guiding the queasy boy out of the room, Harry found himself **melting away in a blur of color.**

* * *

 **Strangely,** he was in The Burrow now, eating breakfast with the Weasley's in the late morning. Harry had no idea what year it was, but judging by Ron's haircut, he figured it was 1996.  
Harry couldn't hear what Ron and the twins were currently bantering about, as only one conversation stood out to him. The sounds were coming from his right, the source being Molly and Ginny Weasley, along with Hermione. They were furiously whispering to each other, and letting out an occasional giggle. Strangely, Hermione seemed a little… off, but Harry soon found his attention purely on what Molly was saying.

"Oh yes, I remember now. It was our fifth year, and Arthur was being so childish, talking all about being an Unspeakable, and running for Minister… I snapped him out of those fantasies real quick, all it took was a little Love potion, and we were heading to Hogsmeade before he knew it…" The Weasley Matriarch whispered, alerting Harry to just how far Molly would go for her perfect family. Delusional old bitch…

He freaked out even more, when he uncontrollably took a drink from his glass, and saw Ginny glow a bright pink color, and felt his body heat up quickly.  
He figured it out then…

 _ **That bitch drugged me!**_

* * *

 **Hermione Granger, one of his best friends,** the one that actually was the most useful out of all of his friends.  
He watched his memories of everything the brunette had ever done for him. He watched as she guided him through the traps of first year, gave him hints about the Basilisk, helped save Sirius, carried him through the Triwizard, along with almost every single adventure he had ever been on. After he saw once more the final battle, the blood spilled on Hogwarts' prestigious lawn, a quick slideshow of memories flowed before his eyes.  
The moment he saw her at the Yule Ball, comforting her after catching Ron and Lavender Brown together, the two of them embracing before his parent's graves, and finally them trying to forget that Ron left them, and him trying to lure her to sleep despite her heartbreak.  
He then realized something after seeing one last memory of her, right as he went to find… Ginny.  
There had been heartbreak in her eyes again…

This time, however… **he had been the cause of it.**

* * *

 **Albus Dumbledore…** 'Grandfather', mentor, teacher, hero… and manipulative old goat.  
Only looking over every single memory Harry could remember, did he really reflect on how much the man had influenced him over the years.  
Hell, Harry killed himself because of the man, and his fucking prophecy!  
As he quickly flew past every single smile and twinkle of the man's, Harry stopped at his last memory, which slowly became more clear. The memory itself was fairly blurry, and hard to make out, besides the pair of blue eyes he had seen before… when he realized something horrifying. As he focused even more on that last memory, the image began to clear up, and he saw a wand placed between his eyes, and a man standing before him.  
Harry Potter knew who killed him now, and something even more shocking…  
 ** _Albus Dumbledore lived… and he killed me._**

* * *

 **After noticing everything he had missed,** and having all of those memories locked away for seemingly all of time, Harry fell through the memory sphere and onto the cold floor.  
He held himself together, despite the blistering sensations in his skull, and the hollow reaches of his mind.  
Harry shook himself off, and struggled over to the metallic walls of the memory chamber, and braced himself against it for support.  
He squinted his eyes shut, and tried to block out the reality of everything, when he heard footsteps come towards him.  
When they stopped right in front of him, he pulled his eyes open, and saw someone that appeared to be a carbon copy of himself.  
This other Harry looked almost identical to himself, the only differences being that the other him wore what seemed to be a pure-black suit of armor. (Excluding a helmet, greaves, or gauntlets.)  
Atop the armor, a long black cloak hung around his shoulders, a cracked skull emblem sewed into the right side of it.  
His look-alike's eyes nevertheless, were what attracted Harry's attention… They were pure white.

"Ah, you're freshly dead aren't you? Just arrived? Tell me, who did you in? Riddle? Dumbledore? Weasley...? " His other self asked, amusement in his tone, until he noticed the dull look on Harry's face. The other him then noticed the memory sphere, and realized what was wrong.

"Oh, you've just been wiped, that must have fucking hurt," The knightly Harry said in empathy, before continuing with a greeting, his right hand extended outwards. Harry sat up slightly, and just looked at his doppelganger with a dazed look in his eyes, ignoring the hand. The other him just shrugged off the slight, and smiled at him, introducing himself to the ill teen.

 **"My name's Harry Corvus Apollyon, and I'm Death."**

* * *

 **Did you enjoy?** Let me know.  
Yes, Hell is universal, and this is just the first Harry that our's will meet. Harry Apollyon is a variation I will explain slightly, but to you Devil's Advocates fans, that is a future version of that Harry, who's aged all the way back to eighteen.  
Next time, Harry (O-O-M) will be discussing his future with Lucifer, learning about Harry, (D'S-A) and going where no Harry has ever gone before. He's also going to be slightly amnesic, as he has had almost all of his memories removed. The only things he really remembers, are that his name is Harry Potter, and everything that has happened since he died.  
Have a nice night you all, and a great week.  
 **-Oscar**


	20. One of Many: Hamlet

**Tales Of Black Britain.**

 **The Last Tale: One of Many**

* * *

 **A.N**

* * *

 **Hello everyone** , hope you've had a good week, I haven't really.

I recovered quickly from our crash, but I think I've gotten a slight flu, despite the fact that I have a very good immune system. (When you almost die from Pneumonia, and have to have your lungs pumped at sixteen, apparently your immune system becomes almost super-human, even six years later.)

Anyway, this chapter will be detailing the various Harry's that will be in this chapter, perhaps the next, and whenever I might bring them up again. I wanted each of them to be a fanfiction cliche in a way, mainly AUs that I see way too often when browsing on here, along with other sites. (An example being a slutty Fem-Harry.)

Harry Apollyon will mostly be the main character of this chapter, but there will be an interval of Harry (O-O-M) meeting his other selves, and learning of his future. (Or lack of it.)

I will also be detailing the otherworldly side of the Black Britain universe, and it's siblings, and expanding on the entire multiverse, along with Canon (The Prime) Harry's future. (At least how I predict it would go from what Jo has tweeted in the past.)

Anyway, enjoy.

 **-The Dark Tipped Snake**

 **R &R **

* * *

**Chapter Three: Hamlet**

* * *

 **Council of the Horsemen, Hell**

* * *

 **"Now Luci dear, what's so important about this new guy anyway?"** A scantily, leather clad woman asked Lucifer himself, from atop her withered throne. The woman simply curled her finger throughout her long hair, and sat across the throne in a manner similar to a child, slinging her legs off the side.

Her fellows merely paid her no attention, and neither did Lucifer himself, as she was prone to not taking their meetings seriously. Henrietta Dorea Peverell didn't care much for their meetings after all.

Henrietta had only joined their little 'group' after she had become bored with her seemingly endless Harem, and she was offered immortality and her pick of fresh Incubus, along with any other unholy creature she desired.

"What is so 'important' Rieta, is that he's the closest to the Prime we have ever seen, and that's saying something… And please stop flirting with the fucking Devil." Another Horsemen, this one of Pestilence, a man with floppy, oily black hair said atop his own throne. The young man had skin sallow and pale, along with heavy bags beneath his eyes, which gave the impression that he hardly slept, or was deathly sick.

Henry Benedict Prince was the easiest to annoy out of the Horsemen, though he didn't show it often. The man was a match for his father, but his emerald eyes and a sole dark-red stripe across his bangs gave him away from being a dead-ringer for his father.

He had descended to Hell, after the combined deaths of his parents at the Light's hand, and once he had run out of knowledge to learn in the world. He had learned more from hell, than the entire living realm.

"Saying something…? Was that supposed to be an insult you grease stain?!" A rough, loud voice rang out in the circular room, as a tall, muscular figure jumped from a throne and approached Henry. This Horsemen, was known as War. At one point of time this angry amalgam of rage and hatred, had been known as Hayden Potter, and he was The End. The farthest thing from Harry Potter as any of them could be.

Hayden had eventually sought refuge in Hell because, as impossible as it might sound to casual ears, Hayden committed genocide of the greatest decree.

He killed every single person on the Earth, ending with himself. He was the oldest, physically and mentally of them all, as his conquest of Earth had taken him twenty-eight years, with eighteen more with a reset. Upon receiving his wind-back to 1991, Hayden had done the same task over again, and had exterminated mankind for a third time.

His main role, was to fulfill Lucifer's lust for entertainment.

Instead of biting off some crude remark at him, Henry just sneered at the 'uncultured swine', before being interrupted by their senior Horsemen, who snipped their conflict at the bud.

Harry Apollyon, or the Pale Horsemen, just vanished and reappeared right in front of Hayden, stopping the brute in his tracks.

Apollyon had been the first of the Horsemen, and had for years been considered the closest link to The Prime, until the new Harry came along…

Apollyon had taken a permanent residence in Hell, only when tragedy had struck, and he had been left alone in the world. His only companions now, were himself, the Devil, and the occasional Succubus. Which he had found, he had an unusual resistance to over the last forty or so false-years, which was not unlike his immunity to the Veela. He then assumed the two were descended from a similar figure, perhaps even Lilith herself… Who had turned out to be a surprisingly good kisser, aside from the fangs of course… She wasn't the first vampire for nothing…

Thinking back to his confrontation, Apollyon focused once more on his task.

"War, sit the fuck down… This is the Council room, not the Death Pit… " Apollyon snarled, his hand wrapped firmly around Hayden's thick throat, saying one last sentence before trailing his threat on. "If you want to fight so bad… I'm be there later… Then I'll kill you again."

Hayden growled low in his throat, before knocking off Apollyon's grip, and returning to his violence-themed Throne of Iron, where he glared at the others of the council.

Seeing that they had been defused, Apollyon returned to his own throne, made from the bones of an entire herd of Griffins, which Apollyon had personally crafted into his royal seat of power.

"Can't you boys go one meeting without fighting? I thought we were the 'good' guy? But all we do is fight… " Henrietta said in a mocking tone, which was complemented by the fact that they all were perverted variations of the Golden Boy savior of Hogwarts. Their current meeting, had been whether to assist someone that was in essence the very boy they all hated.

"That 'good guy' is living a lie with a harlot, who has his balls so blue he'll do whatever she tells him to. That, is why we aren't him, and never will be, Henrietta." Henry said, an unusual coldness in his voice, as like his father, he thought The Prime was too much like the man that had bullied his father as a child.

Overall, Henry Prince despised Harry and James Potter.

"Well, I don't know about 'Harlot'... Mine was a bit too innocent for my tastes… but she was a good lay later on… Just took a little push." Henrietta muttered, a dark grin coming to her face, which made Hayden outraged, as he hated her 'stories.'

They always included sleeping with people he hated and had killed before. He hated remembering his days as a mortal.

Hayden merely growled out an offensive insult about her, before pulling what appeared to be a steel cell phone out of his combat armor, and began to scroll along a list of people he had on his hit list for his next shot at destroying mankind. The list became longer each time he thought about it, while the first time it was merely a blind massacre.

The other Horsemen just ignored Hayden, and resumed their discussion, with Henry asking the next question.

"Apollyon, tell me… Why do you want us to help… Harry. I thought you hated The Prime the most out of all of us?" Henry asked, casting a scrutinizing look Apollyon's way, which the older horsemen just shrugged off.

"I do… But Harry isn't The Prime, he's just closer to him than I am," Apollyon explained, before continuing his argument for Harry's sake. "Besides, I'm the closest out of all of us, and I became Death itself!"

The others did see his point, and considered the fact that Harry could have potential among them, but Lucifer did interfere with their plans then.

"I'm afraid I must crush your ideas of a fifth Horsemen, as I have a plan in mind for dear Harry. I've a few details to work out first, then I will tell all of you." Lucifer said, looking each Horsemen in their eyes. None of them argued with his decision, as despite their transgressions and opinions, Lucifer was ultimately their lord, and his word was utter law.

"Thank you Lord Lucifer, I will not make you regret your help." Apollyon said to his technically adopted father, before giving a quick bow, and leaving the council room.

Not long after, the others followed suit, and Lucifer sat alone in the empty room.

He wondered how things had changed so quickly.

It had seemed like just yesterday, that he brought in a young, bespeckled teen into his world, along with his friends.

Then death struck, and the sole survivor became Death,

It was a sad bit of irony, and it made what Lucifer had of a heart… ache for his 'son,' and all he had lost by this point.

 **"Oh Harry… I'm so sorry for bringing you into all of this… "**

* * *

 **Room #13, Otherworldly Hotel, Hell**

* * *

 **While one Harry was sleeping off the struggle of afterlife,** and began to unconsciously adapt to his new form, another Harry was facing a conflict of his own.

Apollyon had retreated to his own room of the twisted hotel, which unknowingly to most new additions, only housed his kind. Alternate Harry's, one in each room of the hotel.

Apollyon was working away at cleaning the interior of his assault rifle, when he felt a pair of arms sling around his shoulders, causing him to quickly stick his pistol between the intruder's ribs.

He found the amused amber eyes of Henrietta, and just kept his aim at her heart, ready for anything.

"What do you want Famine? Can't not see I'm busy?" Apollyon asked his 'sister', who just kept her position around him, almost ignoring his handgun.

"Oh, I really don't know what I want, besides the 'old you' back… You were so much more fun when that girly friend of your's was around. What was her name? L-" Henrietta began, her mocking tone much like the Lestrange woman he had killed oh-so long ago. Henrietta wasn't prepared though, as by the time she muttered a single syllable of his deceased love's name, a bullet found itself piercing her rotten heart, causing her to die once again.

Apollyon knew of course that his female counterpart wouldn't stay dead, as nothing in Hell did, but also because the Horsemen were completely immortal.

In her last seconds before she was reborn in the Valley of the Dead, Apollyon leaned over her face, and issued a single warning in a deadly pitch.

"You know the one rule Famine… Do. Not. Say. Her. NAME!" Apollyon screamed, firing numerous shots into Henrietta's skull, before sitting back down into his arm chair, and banishing her body away.

He cradled his face in his hands, and felt tears streak his cheeks for the first time in decades. He tried to clear his mind, and only saw blonde hair and silver eyes, very similar to the ones he had now.

Forty-two years later, and Harry Apollyon (In a different life, Potter) **had still never gotten over Luna Lovegood…**

* * *

 **Room# 2, Otherworldly Hotel, Hell**

* * *

 **Many days later,** Harry Potter found himself waking in a comfortable bed. He was inside a room, which unknown to him, was next to Room one, the room reserved exclusively for The Prime…

It's opposite of course, was room six-hundred, and the two same numbers that followed. The End, the worst and most beastly variation, was purposely given that exact room. Lucifer had thought it hilarious to give the worst Harry in existence, a room that corresponded with the Mark of the Beast.

Hayden was in fact a beast himself, and had brought about the apocalypse on his own, close to three times starting again in five years. (Which was the date that Hayden planned to go back again, and once again would destroy humanity. Lucifer truly thought the younger man needed a hobby beside genocide.)

When our Harry did awaken, he still had no recollection of his old life, only his name, the last few days, and finally an image of a mysterious brunette. That was the murkiest thing he knew, that one girl he couldn't remember, but wanted to, so much more than anything else.

His true life be damned, **that girl was important, he just knew it.**

* * *

 **Remembering his encounter with the Devilish ruler of Hell,** Harry exited his hotel room, taking far less notice of the futuristic room than any other version of himself had.

The teen was determined to find the truth, despite everything else.

When Harry had eventually found his way to Lucifer's palace, which Harry had only found since it was the nicest and largest building in the entire level of Hell, he made his way to the front doors.

The only other building that could compare to Lucifer's palace in size, would be Lucifer's blasphemous church, which only existed as a shot at Elohim, or God after his defeat at Lucifer's hand. Harry had assumed that Lucifer wouldn't live in a church, so he headed off to the only other building of that size.

Upon reaching Lucifer's domain, Harry pushed himself through the thick doors of the main hall, and made his way to what he assumed was Lucifer's office. Harry also realized it was the room that he had been in when he arrived in hell.

Within the room, Harry found Lucifer as he had hoped, but also the strange look alike he had seen before. The two were engaged in conversation, but stopped when harry entered the room.

"Ah, Harry, just in time," Lucifer said, a grin moving onto his face as he gestured for the teen to enter. "This, is Apollyon. My… son, and one of your counterparts."

At this, Apollyon nodded at Harry, before turning once more to Lucifer, hoping that he would reveal the great secret of Harry's future.

To his dismay, he asked for questions first.

"Before I tell you what sourpuss over there is waiting for, do you have any questions for me Harry? Any at all?" Lucifer asked, noticing the confused look on Harry's face. The pale man expected Harry to ask a question about Magic, or his universal counterparts, but harry threw them both for a loop.

"I… keep seeing this girl… With brown, bushy hair… Who is she?" Harry asked the devil, not noticing as Apollyon froze at the mention of the girl, who Apollyon hadn't seen in decades as well. Unlike Harry's last memory being sad, Apollyon's was full of hatred.

"She's one of the worst people in existence..." Apollyon growled out, not noticing Lucifer's surprised look, as Lucifer figured that harry wouldn't remember anything from his past.

"Quiet Corvus… " Lucifer warned the man in a cold voice, before turning back to harry again, a pained look on his face. "That girl… was one of your best friends. Her name was Hermione Granger."

"What happened to her?" Harry asked the man, his mind racing to try and remember this girl that dominated his thoughts. All that came back to him was the same image as before, but his mind now was focused on the name. Strangely, as he thought over her name, a random string of numbers came to his mind.

 _ **1623.**_

What they meant, Harry didn't have a clue, but he filed them away for later.

Lucifer went still after the question and didn't answer, seemingly thinking over what to say.

"I have no idea what happened to your version of her, the best I can tell you, is that she's alive… " Lucifer muttered out, attempting to put the boy at ease, only to fill him with disappointment. Lucifer thought to himself, and realized that he could go to living realm, and retrieve the girl so the couple could be together… but the consequences of that exact action stood before him. His 'son' was a result of Lucifer trying anything to make him smile again. Now, Apollyon rarely did.

"That's… good to know." Harry said with a gulp, as he wished he could have known more. He would have asked more questions, but he saw that Harry Apollyon was getting impatient, and just decided to let Lucifer say what he needed.

Seeing the resolve in his eyes, Lucifer nodded, and began to tell Harry what he most likely wouldn't like.

"Harry, I only have a single option for you, since this version of you, was meant to die when you did. Everything happened as planned, and I can not change that…," Lucifer said, regret and sadness creeping into his voice, before he finished his explanation off with a kicker.

"I can let you retry Harry… But you won't be Harry Potter, **and you won't be in control."**

* * *

 **Lobby, Otherworldly Hotel, Hell**

* * *

 **Harry was deep in thought** , as he thought over what Lucifer had offered. He had learned that if he took the offer, everything that made him who he was, (Despite the fact he had forgotten most of it) would be gone. Harry Potter, at least this one, would die. Harry didn't see a better choice, as it was either stay in a hotel for the rest of eternity, or be reincarnated in a way, as a just a voice in a new Harry's head.

He had just been deciding his answer, when he felt something press down on the sofa that he was sitting on. Harry looked to his right, and saw someone that looked like him, but also like someone he couldn't remember. He just remembered a glowing doe, and a black cloak.

Harry assumed this person was another version of himself, so he decided to say hello, but the other 'Harry' cut him off.

"I do not want to even hear you say a word… But I must have an answer to a question of mine." Henry Prince commanded, his green eyes hot with so much hate, that Harry swore he could feel the heat coming off of him. Harry nodded slowly, and just waited for a question to come. He wasn't kept waiting for long.

"If Lucifer sends you back… What will you do?" Henry asked, his eyes adopting a vacant stare then, that made Harry feel as if the Horsemen was looking through him.

"I- I'll try and guide the new me to a good life." Harry answered, hoping that his goal would fulfil Henry's expectations.

At hearing it, Henry nodded and looked at the glass ceiling of the hotel for some time, before looking back at Harry.

Henry then asked a favor of him, and whispered it in a low, and sad tone that seemed to show what little humanity Henry had left.

 **"Harry… Save my dad, please… Just do this for me. Save him… "**

* * *

 **Temporal Chamber, Time-Stand Tower, Hell**

* * *

 **It was then,** that Harry Potter stood in the timeless tower that many Harry's before him had. His attention only on two gigantic hour-glasses that hung on the walls of the chamber around him.

Harry was ready, once again, to die.

This time there were no 'extra lives,' no horcruxes to rely on, no 'Power-he-knows-not,' nothing that could fix everything that had gone wrong for him.

He was ready, as were Lucifer and the ancient man that lived in the tower he stood in.

Harry Potter had his life torn apart, like so many of his counterparts.

He was just one of the many Harry's that got the short end of life.

 _Hadrian_ Potter, would have a chance though.

 **It would be the last thing Harry would do.**

* * *

 **Did you enjoy? Let me know.**

A lot of things happened, and I don't know what to say really. Apollyon is fifty-nine years old. (Eighteen years from his original timeline, nineteen from the Devil's Advocates timeline, and forty-two years as Death in Hell.)

Henry Prince is an interesting character of mine, though he is one of the cliche variations. (A 'Harry' that's the son of Lily and Severus, but has looks from them both.)

Henrietta's name was purely a reference to Henrietta Peverell, a character that I created as an ancestor of Hadrian's.

It's true that amnesiacs do occasionally have one important thing that they do remember, which is what happens here. The numbers are just a reference to something from that year, but nothing more than it. (If anyone actually catches it, let me know, I'll tell you if you're right.)

We'll be coming full-circle in the next chapter, the final chapter of the final Arc of Tales season one.

I hope you all have a nice night, and a good morning.

Goodbye.

 **-Oscar**


	21. One of Many: A New Hope

**Tales Of Black Britain.**

 **The Last Tale: One of Many**

* * *

 **A.N**

* * *

 **Hello everyone.**  
I'm back with the finale of Tales of Black Britain, and it will cover Harry's (O-O-M) demise, the birth of the B.B universe, and the changes his actions cause.  
I will be setting up some events for another season, and explaining somethings.  
Hope you all enjoy the lengthy finale, and I'm sorry but I'm not leaving a preview. I'm still thinking over what to do next.  
I will talk to you guys at the end.  
 **-The Dark Tipped Snake**

* * *

 **R &R**

* * *

 **Warning: There is a section similar to The Wicked Dead's level of gore. Be warned.**

* * *

 **Season End: A New Hope**

* * *

 **The fabric of Reality and life** was in his hands.  
After phasing into oblivion from the Time-Stand Tower, this version of Harry Potter for a time, disappeared entirely from the multiverse.  
Not long after, his consciousness reformed in the strange realm he now found himself inside. He also discovered, that his 'body' wasn't completely physical, and was similar to the in-between state Riddle had taken in the second year of Harry's schooling.  
Harry looked around him, and noticed that everything around him was pure white, and was beginning to tug at his mind in familiarity.  
Turning back to the front of himself, Harry noticed what appeared to be a keyhole, in the middle of the air… It just floated there, and wasn't attached to anything, as Harry felt the space around it.

After focusing on this strange occurrence, Harry heard a sudden thud, and jumped slightly. He looked around, and noticed that a large golden key had fallen from the sky, and landed at his feet.

"The hell…?" He muttered to himself, lifting the key upwards to look at it with a closer perspective. To his surprise, his name was imprinted on the vintage key in a silver font.  
He turned the key over in his palms repeatedly, before he felt a presence all around him. He began to hear what sounded like whispers all around him, which began to manifest into voices, until one became very loud…

"Harry my boy! Just step away from there, and give me that key… " A hushed, crackly voice called out, as an elderly man clothed in white appeared out of nowhere. Harry didn't recognize the man at all, but he felt… something inside him that told him to keep the key as far away as possible from the man. He took a sudden step away from the man, and held the key against his chest.

The old man in turn stepped closer, and reached his hand out to him in fatigue. The man appeared to be near a heart attack, and looked barely awake as he staggered forward towards him.

The man attempted to call out to him again, but Harry just quickly cut him off. "Who are you?" He asked, his eyes flickering back and forth from the strange terrain, and back to the man. To his surprise, before the man could answer, a voice within him gave an answer.

 _ **Dumbledore.**_

"I'm your headmaster Harry… Albus Dumbled-dore… Just, just give me the key Harry… " The man, Dumbledore tried to tell him, only to began gasping and wheezing between words. Just as the elderly man moved forward, Harry backed even farther away.

"W-why should I?" Harry muttered, as his eyes were suddenly drawn back to the mysterious keyhole, which began to flicker with a strange green light. Before his eyes, it began to flicker out like a drained light bulb. He was forced out of his observation then, as the strange feeling began to build up, and that same voice spoke once more. He thought it sounded familiar, but he forgotten almost every single person he knew in his life, and all of their voices.

 _ **Turn the key Harry.**_

Harry made to run to the keyhole, but it was then that Dumbledore rushed at him and grabbed a hold of his left arm. Harry became desperate then, and began to elbow the man's face. Before he could force the man off of him, he noticed a strange occurrence. To his surprise, a spectral image of a girl appeared out of nowhere, and quickly pulled the old man off of him.  
Dumbledore began to fight her impossible grip off of him, but to his and Harry's surprise, the man began to disappear before their eyes. A blue light began to eat away at the panicking man, who never stopped screaming.

He watched as the last trace of the man he knew as Albus Dumbledore disappeared completely, small flakes of blue ash flying away from the ghostly girl. His memory began to work slowly then, as realization came to him.  
The name didn't come to him until she made her way over to him, and gently led him by the arm over to the quickly disappearing keyhole. Just as it finally began to blink out for good, he had turned the silver key within it, and he was enveloped in light. Before he finally passed on in a way, he took one last look at the phantom-like girl, who seemed to be sobbing softly. "Hermione…?"

The Multiverse had one less Harry Potter then, as one of the most important began to be broken down into a series of matter, which dispersed all throughout the universes. One such entity began to shift it's form, until it resembled a shape similar to a humanoid. Details formed on it's face, until it looked like a blurry, glowing human being. Around the strange apparition, an endless landscape began to form, until a beautiful forest formed around him. The Being looked around the wondrous scenery, but thought nothing of it, as it couldn't. The one thing that drew it's attention though, was a large black sphere, surrounded by lying chains.  
The Being moved forward, heading straight for the bubble-like sphere, before stopping firmly in front of it. Moving one 'foot' forward, The Being stepped into the sphere fully, and was covered in darkness. With the disappearance of the entity, the grasslands around the sphere quickly died. The 'sky' darkened, and emerald flames charred the world, burning away everything around the sphere.

Once the hail storm of destruction ceased, the realm looked like a barren wasteland, decayed plants and stone-like dirt forming the landscape.  
It was as if everything had died.

With that, a wave of universal power flooded that reality, wiping away what remained and remolding it.  
Changes formed from almost everything, changing one of the near-Prime realities, to one of near-End.  
History itself burned, and in it's place… something new formed from it's ashes. A new world similar to those before it, but vastly different from the others.  
The rebirth began with small changes, but then turned massive **as the framework of mankind changed.**

* * *

 **Moonshrew House, Wizarding Britain**

 **(The fifteenth Century.)**

* * *

 **"She's really dead… "** Cadmus Agenor Peverell whispered in his grief, as he stared at the block of crystal that had shown him the tormented soul of his fiancee, Mirilla Barlow.  
The stone was more of a curse than anything else, as he had no idea that it would hurt her until he already called her forward.  
Now, he sat in a dark corner of his home, staring at the stone that had offered him a reprieve from his depression. Now, it had brought him even more, and completely demolished him.  
He was now at the lowest point of his life, and was close to the edge. The curved dagger in his hands was evidence of this.  
As he sat debating his fate, he was interrupted by his familiar, Myetheus who slithered over to him in a sudden rush.

"Massster Cadmuss! You have received posssstage from young massster Ignotus… He wissshss you a pleassant year, and informsss you that he hass taken a wife." The basilisk hissed out, causing Cadmus to stifle slightly. Even his 'baby' brother had married before him, making him long for Mirilla once again.

"I will respond to my brother soon… I need to make a decision. Do I have contacts in Divination?" Cadmus hissed back, picking himself up from his misery, and walking from the corner with his familiar at his heels.

 **"Yesss Massster Cadmuss…"**

* * *

 **Rouen, France**

 **(May 30th, 1431)**

* * *

 _ **Reloading a new bolt** takes much too long._ Henrietta Peverell, the first, thought as she loaded a fresh bolt into her beloved crossbow 'Calvin.'  
The heir of the Peverell fortune was currently crouched in a filthy french alleyway, looking around a corner frequently at a horde of English guards.  
She was currently undergoing a mission from the uncrowned king, to rescue his 'holy hero,' Jehanette d'Arc. An obvious seer, who was a valuable resource to Charles the seventh, despite the fact that she was a muggle as well.  
Now, Henrietta was in the middle of Rouen, enemy soldiers all around with only two comrades on her side. Her only allies were two brothers named Winifred and Willimus, who Charles INSISTED accompany her to France, despite the fact the three hadn't worked together before.  
They had their uses though, as Winifred was very effective as a scout, and had brought back news that the soldiers planned to burn Jehanette, or 'Joan.'  
On the day of the scheduled execution, the three were to save Joan… without using magic, to prevent Joan from discovering magic too soon.

Now, Henrietta patrolled the streets with her crossbow and short sword to dispatch of any stray soldiers, while Willimus covered her from the rooftops. Last time they had seen Winifred, he had disguised himself as a soldier, and ran off to the garrison headquarters to began placing reductus charms under it. They wanted to make a nice light show when they left.

After stealthy shooting and slashing her way to the main courtyard of the town, Henrietta saw the soldiers and a spare selection of clergy standing around the square, the center being where the poor teen was trapped.  
Up on a high balcony, was some old pope or someone similar, screeching out something about Joan being a heretic or some other insult.  
Henrietta hadn't been informed about the man, but she figured he'd need to be eliminated, as he was ramping up the soldiers' aggression.

She saw a blur on a nearby rooftop, as the quick moving form of Willimus zoomed by, before stopping on a rooftop across from where she stood. She looked up to him, and saw him motion to the town crier, but she just shook her head.  
Henrietta knew there would be chaos if he killed the man, and she wanted to be off the streets in that case. She turned then, and ran at the closest house, and began to scale the walls quickly. Grabbing ledges and edges, she vaulted her way upwards, until she reached the roof. Checking that her crossbow was still strapped to her back, and she still had her sword, she rushed off the side of the house. Once she reached the end of the roof, she flung herself through the air onto the neighboring building in a roll.  
She hit the roof hard, and rolled herself out of the velocity. Standing back up from her injury, she pulled 'Calvin' free, and looked over to where Willimus had been. To her surprise, he was gone, but suddenly jumped down from a chimney near her. He brushed himself off, before turning to her.

"You see that lone soldier there?" Willimus asked her, pointing out an odd soldier that stood outside of the large group that surrounded Joan. She looked closer at him, and noticed that he looked up at them, and nodded.  
 _Damn, Winifred is smart…_

"He's going to stop them if they try to light her up, but I need to take out the crier, and you need to stop the soldiers with torches. Got it?" Willimus asked in a quick, harsh voice as he looked expectedly at her. Henrietta just scoffed, and nodded at him in annoyance.

"Good, see you at evacuation." Willimus said, before disappearing in a blur that zoomed across the roofs. She readied her crossbow and watched as he leaped into the air and onto the crier, impaling the old man on his broadsword. Almost in slow motion, Henrietta shifted the crossbow over to the closest torcher, and sent a bolt flying straight for him.  
The metal bolt made contact with the soldier's forehead, and she immediately went to reload, ducking behind the edge of the roof.  
She heard sounds of combat and Willimus 'blurring,' and saw exactly that when she looked back. Winifred broke his cover, and was now slicing away at the soldiers closest to Joan, while Willimus was shielding him at an inhuman speed.  
While they fought off the soldiers, Henrietta leaped off the rooftop and landed atop a burly man, her short sword slicing his head clean in half. She climbed off the corpse, and entered the fray.  
Running forward, Henrietta took turns firing bolts and reloading, and cutting down any soldiers that attacked her.  
Within minutes, the three English finished off the entire battalion.  
While the brothers went to loot the bodies for any valuables, Henrietta walked over to Joan, and quickly made work of cutting the teen free. Nodding at the brothers once more, Henrietta began to lead the french maiden to their escape point, where Charles' mercenaries awaited them in a ship. She didn't look behind her, even when the enemy garrison was blown sky high, or when the brothers Slytherin joined her side.  
Henrietta was really impressed with the mission overall, and decided she had to work with the brothers again.  
They made a great team, **and made the job a little fun.**

* * *

 **Herman Wool's Children Orphanage**

 **(March 27th, 1967)**

* * *

 **James Lloyd Potter hated his birthday.** It just reminded of his parent's deaths. He didn't remember it of course, but he knew his parents died seven years ago from the date. Mrs. Cole had told him as much… an unknown sickness.

She had told him years before how a neighbor of theirs had brought him to the orphanage to be raised, as the man was too 'old.'  
So for another year, James just sat in the room he shared with two other boys, a flimsy curtain being the only privacy he would get.  
James had been sitting on his small bed, reading a slightly tarnished copy of Oliver Twist, when he heard the bedroom door creak open.  
He didn't think much of it, as it so often did when his roommates returned, but he was surprised as he didn't hear anyone speaking. His roommates were usually loud and crude, and often took pleasure in disturbing James, and trying to ruin his books. Of course, James couldn't let that happen. His books were his life, and he would defend them to the death.

After straining to hear anything, he was even more surprised to find a redheaded girl ripping his curtain open, and staring him down. He wondered what she could want, and lost himself in her odd emerald eyes. They seemed to hold a wealth of emotion, but the primary one was determination and slight confusion. Why she was confused, James didn't really know. She was familiar to him, as if he had seen her before. He remembered her coming to the orphanage, maybe… three years back?

"James Potter?" The girl asked him, Lilith he thought her name was, as she stepped towards him. She looked at him in a strange way, as if he was something unique and needed to be observed. It unnerved him a lot, but there wasn't any malice in her tone and gaze.

"Yes…?" James answered in a stretched out manner, as he cocked an eyebrow at her, placing his paper bookmark back between the withered pages. He still didn't know what she wanted, but it must have been important for her to sneak past Mrs. Cole.

 **"You might not believe me James… But you're a wizard."**

* * *

 **Riddle Manor, Little Hangleton, Muggle Britain**

 **(1970)**

* * *

 **"Father, why do I have to learn to sword fight?"** Young Thomas 'Tom' Marvolo Riddle, asked his father as the two engaged in a quick match of combat. Thomas Riddle senior had taught Tom combat skills from a young age, along with almost anything the boy would need to know from the mundane world. He taught his son politics, warfare, philosophy, along with various other skills. The main reason he actually taught his son all of this, was Thomas suspected those… freaks would come for his son after those 'aurors' had arrived around that Gaunt bitch's death. The men in blue had tried to take his son, but his father had forced them off his property.  
He still couldn't believe that, that… foul 'woman' had… bewitched him into a marriage. She did give him a son and heir though, and thankfully Tom inherited his looks, rather than that horse's. It made thinking of Tom as his son easier. He had no idea what he would have done if Tom looked like his mother…

Strangely, the boy had brown eyes as an infant, but they had turned bright crimson over the years. Thomas doubted he would know really, as he suspected it was a effect from that… witch being Tom's mother.

Hearing his son's question, Thomas thought it over, before answering.  
"You remember what I've told you about your mother Tom?" Thomas asked his son, his face growing slack from thinking about the dreaded woman.

"That she was a rapist whore, and was a freak?" The innocent boy asked, his head at an angle as if the question was random, and confusing.

Thomas laughed at this, and vowed to reduce his swearing around his son. Straightening himself up, Thomas sheathed his blade, and smiled at his son.

"Yes, my boy. She was… but what about her family?" Thomas asked, becoming serious once more. Tom stood straight at this and answered quickly.

"That they live in that shack down the hill, and want to kill us in our sleep?"

Thomas nodded at this, and bent down to his son's level. He wondered how much of a toll it had taken on his son to know his family wanted him dead, as the boy never really complained. At least Thomas' parents were around to spoil and love the child like he deserves.

"Yes Tom, they do," Thomas explained, before dropping a bomb on his son, who would understand despite what Thomas thought..

 **"And when the time comes, we will kill them first."**

* * *

 **Philadelphia, The "New World"**  
 **(July 1st, 1776)**

* * *

 **"Assassin! Murderer! Stop that man!"** A loud voice screamed out, sending guards and other rebels in his direction.  
Wilbus Potter just snickered, as he knew they couldn't catch him. They never could.  
He jumped from the balcony of the statehouse, and landed roughly on the roof of a horse-drawn stagecoach.  
Wilbus slid off the coach then, as the rebels began approaching him at a quick speed.  
He took off and began to cut through alley ways, and stores, busting his way through locked doors to freedom.  
After an hour's run, Wilbus couldn't believe that the brutes had chased him all of the way into the kingsmen's territory.

 _Fools…_ Wilbus thought, as he watched the 'patriots' get gunned down by his brothers in red. He also couldn't believe that they had been so unintelligent to chase him so far, just because he killed Washington.

 _The man was just a general… why did they act like I killed their king?_ Wilbus asked himself as he headed on board his ship, the Morpheus. The assassin of the crown didn't expect to head to sleep for the night, as he expected a courier to come for him soon.  
It was only when he was removing his bracers and sword, that the foreseen courier arrived, bringing a rushed letter for him.  
Wilbus accepted the letter, and didn't even need to check who it was from.

"Baron Potter, the admiral orders your presence at-" The young courier tried to explain, before Wilbus just cut him off, disappearing on the spot.  
 **The man couldn't care less.**

* * *

 **When Wilbus had tried to apparate to Admiral Howe's fleet,** he didn't expect to arrive at a large, round courtroom.  
It took him a moment to realize where he was, but once he did, he was filled with anger and amusement.

"I see you bigots finally realized I've been stomping all over your Statute of Secrecy… " Wilbus said, amused with how angry the denizens of the court looked, but also upset himself as they had clearly kidnapped him. if only they knew who they had taken, as he wasn't the young man that had left Britain years ago. That boy had died, and found himself immersed in the warfare of muggle kind. He was reborn as a new man under the crown.  
He considered the war, far more important than anything the old men of Britain could think of, so he fought for his king and countrymen.  
The wizards also wanted to lock him away for life, and that was another reason he didn't return to London. His only contacts with Britain at all, were through his orders and correspondence with the King, who gave him a sense of immunity from the wizards.

"Baron potter, you are charged with extreme breakage of the Statute of Secrecy, grand larceny, and high degrees of murder against wizarding and muggle kind… How do you plead?" Maximilian Crowdy, the Minister for Magic asked him in an even tone. Crowdy was the only member of the Wizengamot and Ministry that Wilbus respected, as the rest of them were corrupt or sheep.

"Well Crowdy boy, I plead extremely guilty on all charges… But I think you should add resisting arrest to that list of your's." Wilbus suggested, a sly grin growing on his face quickly, as the Aurors moved closer to him. They seemed to remember this trick of his from the last time they tried to bring him to face 'Justice.'

"Why do y-" Crowdy tried to ask, only to be interrupted when Wilbus disappeared, blasting his way through the Ministry's wards.

"He did it again," Crowdy muttered, wondering what it would take next time. **"Merlin be damned… "**

* * *

 **Whitechapel**

 **(Victorian England, 1888)**

* * *

 **"Coppers fooled once again!** Chief Brooks receives yet another letter! Ripper still on the loose, read all about it!" A young boy of about eight years yelled from the nearest street corner, waving the daily paper around in the air like a young fool. For several weeks the paper had covered nothing but the same topic. Jack the Ripper, the 'Leather Apron Killer', the 'Whitechapel Monster,' or simply…  
'The Ripper.'

Miram Kraz Black walked up to the young Newsie, and dropped a coin in the lad's tin can, before checking the offered paper thoroughly.  
It was as he expected, constables incompetent, and the police just kept printing the letters, instead of trying to stop the murders.  
Miram never understood where the police had gotten 'Jack' from, but he understood 'Ripper' as the victims were often gruesome.  
He looked at the newsliner, and saw a copy of the latest letter, with what seemed to be comments around the margins on the piece.

Miram concluded it was just the police ruining even more evidence, as hand-writing other than the originals could make testing come off incorrect.  
It was truly sad when Miram was smarter than the men that were suppose to protect the innocent.  
Well, it explains why it was so easy for him to do what he did.  
He supposed someone would have gutted London in the state it had been well before he even showed up.  
 **Who said he couldn't go first?**

* * *

 **Five seemed like such a… dull number to stop at.** Much too boring for the likes of someone such as he.  
A small part of himself told him to stop, that five dead would be enough.  
The bloodlust and hundreds of other, much louder screams overwhelmed any self control Miram had in his whole being.  
He had been described in a funny way long ago… Someone said he was like a shilling, two different sides, same coin It was an almost perfect example for him.  
Jekyll by day, Hyde by night.  
Miram Black worked at the local inn during the day. A disowned nobleman, who was cast out by his vengeful family, and now lives a humble life.  
Then, there was the flipside.  
Jack the Ripper, London's worst nightmare. The demon that walked the same streets as all of them, and would prey upon any unlucky enough to be out at night.  
The entire city knew that when the moon rose, Whitechapel and London, were his domain.  
No matter what brave soul stepped out their door, **they would regret it.**

* * *

 **Miram couldn't control it.**  
When he awoke on a dark morning, he lay in an alleyway, a corpse his companion.  
He jumped quickly, and began to make himself presentable to the public.  
He pulled the Ripper Hood, a hooded mask that covered his features, and had a disturbingly handsome image of a man on it, up to cover his own.  
He collected his signature knife, and quickly fled the scene, running as far from his body as he could.  
It was only when reached an alley in Southwark that he finally stopped.  
Seeing that he was unburdened, Miram prided open a nearby sewer grate, and dropped below into the dark underbelly of London.  
 **It was time to send another letter from Hell…**

* * *

 **Muggle Britain**

 **(July 31st, 1981)**

* * *

 **It was near midnight** , when a new child was introduced into the wide world. After many hours, the youngest Potter joined his parents, and was instantly cherished by the two.  
After much debate between them both, the boy came to be known as Hadrian J. Potter, after an odd encounter from their young was brought up.  
The infant was fair and content with the world, and his parents were just as much.  
It was only when the boy opened his eyes, that bright green shone out. A strange knowledge and understanding rested in those two orbs of light, which were much too old for such a young face.

 **It begins again…**

* * *

 **Did you enjoy the finale?** Let me know.  
It wanted to give one final, long chapter.  
I'm also setting up a lot of stuff I will cover later, as I'm thinking of doing something similar to the show "American Horror Story" which is a different season covering a different setting.  
If I do, I might dedicate an entire season to the horsemen, and another to Hadrian's adapted ancestors.  
In case anyone wonders if the United States would still exist in the Black Britain universe, Robert Lee (One of Washington's underlings) takes Washington's place as general and President, but doesn't do nearly as well.  
You can see clearly which video game inspired some of the ancestors.  
(Syndicate and Unity.) Well, goodbye folks. I will see you all later.  
 **-Oscar**


	22. 4:1 The Brink

**Tales Of Black Britain**

 **4:1**

* * *

 **A.N**

* * *

 **I'm back,** to fill up the gaps in our uploads. I've decided on where to take Tales now, and I'll be focusing on the horsemen that I introduced in O-O-M 3. I enjoy the characters, so I'm going to expand on them, and show their backstories, and how their worlds differ from Hadrian's and the Prime's.  
To begin, I figured that I would start with the most… interesting of the four, and the most intense.  
War, or Hayden Potter.  
The way 4:1 will work, is there will be four episodes for each of them, with three chapters for each episode. I will give a small preview each time, just to let you know what Horsemen is next on the list.  
Also, Good Dumbledore.  
Well, enjoy.  
 **-Oscar**

* * *

 **R &R**

* * *

 **Warnings:** There will be dark (Not overly, and not always, and changes from dark-violence, to sexual references.) content in War's chapters, along with Henrietta, and Apollyon's. Henry's will be pretty warning-free. That is all.

* * *

 **WAR**

 **Chapter One: The Brink**

* * *

 **Godric's Hollow, England.**

 **(October 31st, 1981)**

* * *

 **Lord Voldemort,** the man that had held the fate of the british Wizarding world in his hand for the majority of the war. His war, him and his followers, versus all of those fools that dared fight him.  
He was determined to stomp out their insolence, and the most troublesome of the 'Light,' all in one night.  
He already struck out against many of the families that resisted him during the night, and left many homes… and innocents burning into the depths of the night.  
There was another task on his agenda for the night, and that was to do with a 'prophecy' he had heard of. One that described a boy of the light, a son of the Order of The Phoenix, destroying him.  
He was going to kill every single male child of the Order, and make sure there would be no others.

He had just finished with the Longbottom family, killed the boy himself, and left his followers to burn the rest. The parents and that wretched old woman's screams had been music to his ears, and he felt a large thrill from the act.

Now, near midnight, he arrived at the final home. The final boy on the list he was given. The Potters… a blood-traitor, a mudblood, and their son.

From what his stupidest follower told him, the Potters were hidden under the Fidelius… a stupid spell that could be broken easily, just by being told where the house was.

"Wormtail! Where are the Potters hiding at, exactly?" The dark lord called out, mock sarcasm in his tone, he truly didn't know how the old fool didn't plan for this. At the name, a chubby, rat-like man emerged from the forest clearing, and joined his master on the suspicious lawn. The patch of land they stood on made no sense, as all around it were cottages, the entire village nearly… except for this one little spot. This was too easy.

"M-my lord… the P-potters live at 114, Armstrom lane, G-godric's H-hollow." Peter Pettigrew stuttered out, as he wrung his hands together nervously. The portly man looked around, as if someone would come and see him with his lord at any moment.

Voldemort grinned then, as the damned cottage appeared before his eyes. The magic of the building dropping, revealing no other wards or protections.

 _Imbeciles…_ Voldemort thought to himself, as he marched up the drive to the cottage door, and paused. Within seconds, the pale man blasted the front of the house away, and ventured inside.

When the man, James Potter, came forward in an attempt to protect his family, Voldemort just shot a cutting curse at the man's neck. With a loud lobbing sound, the head dropped to the floor, and rolled out of the destroyed doorway.

He heard movement then, and ascended up the staircase, his Mage Sight kicking in briefly to show two life forms in a small room to his left. He walked towards the small, childishly designed door, and blasted it apart. Ignoring the shrill screams of the woman, he stepped into the ruined nursery, and silenced the woman with an Avada Kedavra. He stepped over her body, and took a look at the infant he had come for.

Pettigrew told him the child's name was Ha-Hayden, that was it. He looked down at the boy, and saw that the toddler looked much like the boy's parents, and was completely afraid of him. Voldemort grinned, as he waved his wand down at the boy's face, and said two simple words.

The life left the boy's eyes quickly, and Voldemort left the trashed home, letting out a blast of Fiendfyre in the process. With that done, he apparated away to his manor.  
He had much to plan now.  
 **The 'Chosen One,' was dead by his hand.**

* * *

 **When Albus Dumbledore arrived at the Potter Cottage,** he found a large pile of ash and fire, consuming the land. He trudged forward with a grimace, dreading having to look upon his deceased students. The two had been wonderful students of his, and had even joined his Order to help fight against the dark lord, but it seemed the light wasn't lucky on this night.  
When he reached what would have been the front door, he cast several spells over the place, extinguishing the fires before moving forward.

He frowned then, when he encountered a charred skeleton, wearing a gold wedding ring. A tear dropped for James Potter, before Dumbledore walked into the former kitchen, where what was the second floor had fallen into.  
Dumbledore looked up, and caught sight of a second skeleton, that was impaled through a burnt wooden post. The matching ring on this one told him what he suspected, and he just progressed in sadness. A last thought coming into his mind, and he hoped beyond hope that he wasn't right.  
Walking into the blackened pantry of the kitchen, he saw the broken frame of a children's crib. Within it, lay a red blanket, which obscured a shape underneath. Dumbledore knew what it would be, and he prayed to Merlin, to anything, that the boy would have survived.  
Dipping a finger under the cloth, and lifting it up, Dumbledore caught a glance at a deadly still infant. The boy was covered in ash, and was completely silent, not a single breath being heard.

Dumbledore nearly broke down there, and reached for the unfortunate child, when he froze. The boy's eyelids moved. He hoped he wasn't seeing things, when to his surprise and joy, the boy's eyes flicked open.

The old man gasped in horror then, as unlike the green he expected, **the boy's eyes were pure red.**

* * *

 **Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey**

 **(March 14th, 1987)**

* * *

 **Hayden Charlus Potter got used to the vibrations eventually.**

Over the years passed there had been attacks almost nightly, more and more Death Eaters arriving to beat away at the Blood Wards on Number four, causing the entire house to shake.  
With the war in full effect, Hayden knew he was a wizard, as the Order of the Phoenix kept in constant contact with the Dursley's. Vernon and Petunia had been outraged years before, but once shown evidence of Voldemort's mayhem and being told that only Hayden's protection guarded them, they panicked. They relented eventually and kept in correspondence with the Order, who brought them food and other essentials on the regular, as the Order and the Dursleys both knew they were a target in public. Vernon had blown a fuse when he learned that he was essentially trapped in his own home. He was pacified however, when he saw a group of eight Death Eaters on his street a week later, all firing curses and other destructive spells against the wards.  
To Hayden and the Dursley's luck, the wards held strong for six years.

 **They would break tonight.**

* * *

 **Just past midnight,** the entire family heard a loud crash, like a mountain of glass breaking at once. Petunia woke first, and then roused Vernon awake, who in turn ran for his rifle. They had planned for years what they would do if and when the masked freaks broke in, and Vernon quickly grabbed the firearm, loaded it, and grabbed extra rounds in case he needed them. The bustle of the man and wife rushing to fend off the Death Eaters woke one other person up, Hayden Potter, asleep in the smallest bedroom.  
Hayden woke up quickly, as unlike the feeling he got from the regular attacks on the wards, a stinging sensation ran through him. It was if the wards themselves told him they had fallen.  
The boy of not even seven years, pulled his thin coat over himself, and slipped out of 'his' room.  
He wandered down the hall, keeping low to avoid his aunt and uncle from noticing him as he crept down the stairs. He knew the invaders were after him, as they came every single night, and normally aimed their attacks at his window.  
He knew his family couldn't handle those men, as he had spent hours before watching the attackers. A hunting rifle wouldn't come close.

"Get off my lawn you freaks!" His uncle screamed from the front porch, before being violently blasted backwards, bashing his head against the far kitchen wall. The portly man crumpled down, his rifle flying from his hands, utterly defeated.

Hayden watched the first invader, a tall man dressed in blackened robes with a skull white mask, walk into the house, aiming a wand at his uncle. Within seconds, the Death Eater froze in place, and began to scratch away at his mask in pain. Once the man got his mask off, he was launched through the air himself, his body slamming it's way through the side of the home.

Hayden narrowed his eyes at this, and walked out the front door to confront the other remaining fools, who now stared doe-eyed at the spot their comrade had been seconds before.

Once Hayden stepped close enough to them for them to notice, they pulled their wands, and aimed for his chest.

"It's Potter! Get him!" The closest Death Eater yelled out, only to have his head implode seconds later. The now headless body fell to the ground, a small stub on his neck being the only remainder of his head. The group of terrorists then froze once more, before turning their fearful eyes towards Hayden.

"You heard the man… Get me!" Hayden yelled in a high tone, waiting for them to come closer, before launching himself forward. In a flurry of fists and violence, he jumped from person to person, lashing out against them with hate and power. Scarlet blood, various degrees of spells, and shattered shards of white masks flew across the front lawn, turning the picket fielded square into a warzone.  
In just minutes, **Hayden was alone.**

* * *

 **The fools finished off,** Hayden walked back into Number four, before coming face to face with his recovering family. He locked eyes with his bleeding uncle, who didn't have a shred of anger on his face, but something akin to gratitude.

"Bo- Hayden… thank you." Vernon muttered, before walked back to his bedroom, Petunia following close behind. Hayden just watched them go, before snapping his fingers. Within seconds, a glowing silver bubble encased the house, incinerating the corpses, and sealing Number four off any future assaults.  
The house secure, Hayden snapped once more, and the house immediately repaired itself, looking pristine once more.  
Looking around at his work, Hayden slightly nodded to himself, and retreated to his room for the night. He figured that he would be sleeping well for a while, as they were probably frightened now.  
 **He wasn't too far from the truth.**

* * *

 **Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire, England**

 **(The next morning)**

* * *

 **"A SEVEN YEAR OLD KILLED THEM ALL!?"** Voldemort screamed in outrage, shooting curses out at random, many falling to the marble floors in pain. Lucius Malfoy, the owner of the manor and the sole survivor of their latest raid, screamed in torment as his master showed his 'displeasure.'

"M-my l-lord… The b-boy is p-p-owerful… " Malfoy groaned out, his nerves aflame under his skin, a look of agony on his face.  
"HOW?! I killed the runt! How can he be this strong!?" Voldemort screamed in frustration, Malfoy losing his head randomly to an ill-thrown cutting curse from his dear lord. Voldemort paid the man's death no attention, and continued to share his anger freely.  
He had no earthly or otherwise idea on how the Potter brat could have lived, or defeated his men.  
Another thing he didn't know, was that in the far corner of his mind, a small child watched in satisfaction. The boy watched the dark lord, and looked through the man's memories as well, learning all the man knew.  
He'd done this very thing almost every single night, for roughly four years.  
 **Oh, and it was fun.**

* * *

 **Did you all enjoy?** Let me know.  
Well, that is the first part of War's Arc. The second will cover his Hogwarts' years, and perhaps the end of his natural life. The third, will cover 'The Offer', which will be Lucifer's version of the Avengers Protocol. That same format may be the same throughout 4:1, but I'm not too sure yet.  
Also, I wanted to try out writing Good-Dumbledore, and perhaps Slightly-good-Dursleys.  
Well, that's about all I have for now.  
Have a good night everyone.  
 **-Oscar**


	23. 4:1 Too Far

**Tales Of Black Britain**

 **4:1**

* * *

 **A.N**

* * *

 **Hello everyone,** how have you all been?  
The guys and I have been busy, myself with classes and working at the Library, Darin with his work (He's an IT guy, if we haven't mentioned it before), and Ryan with his shifts at Starbucks. I do have have good news, Ryan's fully recovered, and will resume work on Last Yokai soon.  
I've spent my time working on this chapter here, and what I've mentioned above.  
Well, this chapter is covering, well… the majority of Hayden's life, as he only has three chapters. The next one will be the Offer, and what takes place between then, and the point we see him in O-O-M 3. That's all I've got for you all today.  
Read on.  
 **-Oscar**

* * *

 **R &R**

* * *

 **Warnings: Violence, a good bit, and some gore.**

* * *

 **WAR**

 **Chapter Two: Too Far**

* * *

 **House Number 4, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey**

 **(August 21st, 1991)**

* * *

 **When Albus Dumbledore arrived at Privet drive that afternoon,** he was beyond worried. The wards that he shared with Hayden Potter alerted him of them dropping, causing an internal panic within him. Dropping every single thing he was doing, disregarding any danger to himself, he apparated straight to the Apparition Station the Order had established in the center of Privet. When he stepped onto the lawn of the normally, stately home, he knew he was too late. The house had obviously been broken into, as the entire house showed off significant damage. He also knew the situation was handled, as seven charred skeletons laid on the lawn, dark marks glowing silver on their forearms.

He groaned at the murders, but he had gotten used to Hayden's temper. This wasn't the first time Hayden had done the Order's job for them, and he knew he couldn't punish the boy for it. The poor boy had nothing left for himself, and Albus couldn't afford the boy to turn against him.

He knew Hayden wouldn't be able to resist the darkness if Albus turned him against the Order. The only thing Albus could do was tolerate his young ward's actions. Walking through the threshold of the home, Albus immediately felt a stiff, wooden object press against the rear of his skull. He froze, and relaxed under the deathly situation, and held his hands above his head.

"Dumbledore… I see our wards alerted you… " Hayden Potter, the boy-who-lived-again muttered, his scarlet eyes scanning over Albus' features, before pocketing his Stricken Oak and Dark thorn wand in his wrist holster. In recent years, whenever the Order or anyone visited the home, Hayden became beyond paranoid. Alastor Moody had practically fallen in love with the boy, and begged on the spot to adopt him.

"Yes Ha- Mister Potter, the wards did… Are you and your relatives alright?" Albus asked him, honest concern and worry slipping into his tone. The ancient headmaster suspected something was extremely wrong, as Hayden blanked, his face falling flat.

"They're in the living room… " Hayden said, nodding Albus in the direction of the family room, though Albus had visited often enough to know where the room in question was by reflex. Albus stepped forward, and stopped at the sight of the three wrapped up bodies, and stepped back to Hayden's side.

"I think… it's time to go my boy… There's someone I believe you'll want to meet." Albus said gently to the lad, though Hayden seemed unaffected, Albus knew it had to be affecting him. Hayden would normally be blowing up at him by now, as the boy seemed to hate him for some reason. It deeply hurt Albus each time Hayden looked at him with deep hatred.  
Albus shrugged it off, and extended a portkey to the remaining Potter, which the boy touched reluctantly. In a flash of light and a loud crack, the two disappeared from the home, which became visible for the first time in eleven years.  
 **The police would have a field day.**

* * *

 **Platform 9¾, King's Cross Station, Muggle England**

 **(September 1st, 1991)**

* * *

 **Hayden felt eighty seven exact pairs** of eyes staring straight at him after he arrived at the station. He kept his paranoia in check momentarily, and kept his eyes out for the muggleborn Dumbledore had told him to find. The old man had told him about the girl the month before, and informed him of how her parents had been murdered in a recent Death Eater raid. He watched it happen through Voldemort's eyes that night.

Dumbledore told him that one of the Order would be escorting the girl, and that he was to protect her on the train. If the man wasn't so useful, Hayden would kill him for forcing the girl on him. As he trekked up to the steam train, he looked to his left and spotted Mad Eye waiting at the front of the train.  
Hayden stepped up to the man, and received a nod in the direction of the back of the train.

The message understood, Hayden nodded, and stepped up into the first train car.  
He walked between the multiple compartments, and went straight down the aisles, until he reached the last compartment. He had a feeling, and it was correct as the girl sat inside it. She seemed withdrawn, as she just sat against the train's walls, lost in her own mind. She looked dead to him, her wild hair thrown about, a distinct dullness in her eyes.

He normally would ignore the girl, and simply ensure her safety… but if he had to essentially be her bodyguard, he at least wanted to know more about her besides her name, which Dumbledore had supplied.

He got a good feel on how deep her depression went, as even when he had entered the compartment and sat down, she still hadn't noticed him. He even felt bad slightly, as her expression looked much like a small puppy he had gotten when he was eight named Callum.  
The young Bull terrier had been a peacekeeping gift from the Dursleys… He had actually cried slightly when his only friend had raced forward to protect him the night his relatives died.  
Now, the girl just reminded him of how Callum had looked after the attack, lost and sad.

After observing her for several moments, and her being utterly disconnected from her surroundings, he decided to break her concentration.

 **"Hello… I'm Hayden."**

* * *

 **The Great Hall, Hogwarts Castle, Scotland**

 **(May 10th, 1993)**

* * *

 **Hayden Potter was truly alone in the castle.**  
He had gotten used to the allegations of him being the 'Heir of Slytherin' that the students of the castle threw against him.  
It had been bad enough when people just insulted him, and his sole… friend had been around to help him fend off the violent rumors about him.  
Now though… she was good as stone, and he had to solve this mystery surrounding himself and Hogwarts.  
He hated mysteries, that's what Hermione was for…

He groaned as he waited through the ungodly long lunch, while trying not to lose whatever he had of a sanity. It was to his misfortune however, when a person he deeply hated decided to throw their two knuts in on his situation.

"Hey Potter! Still mourning that mudblood of yours? I would think this would be the chance you'd be waiting for! She's ripe for the-" Draco Lucius Malfoy, his rival on the regular, mocked him from the stance the blonde usually took in front of the Gryffindor table.  
Hayden didn't allow the annoying bigot to finish his tirade, he simply manipulated the other boy's body swiftly with his raw might. In seconds, Malfoy's mouth, nose, and eyes all disappeared from his face. Before his housemates could react to wildly, Hayden then caused the boy's limbs to retract into his torso, leaving the 'pure' blonde a single body of flesh.

With the idiot immobilized, Hayden lifted the body into the air with a simple flick of his wrist, and launching it across the hall only to land on the lap of Pansy Parkinson. Despite the seemingly dead body of Malfoy, the compact preteen was actually still alive, as Hayden had made a Wizard's Vow with Dumbledore the year before to not kill a single student.

The only reason why Hayden agreed? He was free to do as he liked, as long as none of his actions were fatal. He didn't even need to attend classes, so he didn't.  
The two had already come to the conclusion that Hayden wasn't even at Hogwarts to learn, the only reason for him being there, was so that Dumbledore could watch over him.

With his lunch done, Hayden rose from the table, and grabbed the black rucksack he normally wore, flipped a certain finger up at the collected group of wizarding kind, and left the hall. Albus Dumbledore just signed at this, and lightly pushed Minerva back down into her seat. It seemed it was time to meet with Hayden once again… And he figured he would need to have another conversation with Malfoy Senior…

 **Being the Headmaster was truly a difficult task…**

* * *

 **Chamber of Secrets, Hogwarts Castle**

 **(May 29th, 1993)**

* * *

 **"Hayden Potter… How nice of you to join me?"** A ghostly form of an older boy greeted him as he stepped into the aged entrance of the Chamber's undergrounds. Hayden knew who the 'ghost' was of course, he had found the diary of the technically deceased boy. The younger spirit of Tom Riddle stood over the unconscious body of Ginny Weasley, who was slowly dying in order to resurrect Riddle.

"You asshole…. I will send you back to whatever corner of Hell you came from…" Hayden snarled out, raw magic rumbling around him like a rough, glowing outline. Riddle flinched slightly, before smiling in a twisted manner, and relaxing his pose.

"You could do that you vulgar imbecile, but if you destroy me, little miss Weasley will die as well… Would you really kill her when you came all this way to save her?" Riddle asked, smugness in his voice, though he didn't even know a thing about Hayden.

Hayden just froze then, and stared the slowly appearing form, before breaking out in an odd bout of cold laughter.

"Y-you really think I'm here for her?" He asked, before letting out a near insane storm of laughter. After several moments though, he stopped and turned once more to his adversary, his face becoming instantly serious. "You really think you can petrify the girl I'm… sworn to protect, and that you'll get away with it?" Riddle paled then, and stepped backwards, but was too late to stop the rampaging entity before him.  
 **Hayden Potter was on the warpath.**

* * *

 **Gryffindor Common Room, Hogwarts Castle**

 **(Midnight, October 31st, 1993)**

* * *

 **Sirius Black, disgruntled and filthy,** slashed his way through the Fat Lady portrait, and stepped into the comfortable room he had last seen near two decades before.  
He knew the rat, Pettigrew would be with the stuck up Weasley, Percival.  
He headed towards the Sixth Years Boy's dormitory, only to freeze as a very familiar feeling pressed against his neck. A very… wooden object.

"Hello Black… I heard you came all the way here for me… so I decided to make it easy for you." Hayden muttered darkly, as he held the man's life literally in his hands.  
Sirius in return, turned suddenly at the voice, but froze once more when the dark brown wand before him started to grow dark red.

"Ja- Hayden… You've grown… " Sirius muttered in amazement, completely looking over the red eyes, just taking in the changes that time had given to his godson. The boy had long dark hair that reached to his lower neck, which was just as wild as James' had been many, many years before. Sirius was almost surprised, as Hayden nearly matched him in height, even though the boy could only have been in his… third year?

"W-what do you mean?" Hayden asked, confusion and annoyance coming into his tone, as he didn't expect a reaction anywhere near from what the man gave him. He expected hatred, or threats. This man, was treating him like a nephew he hadn't seen in years, surprise and warmth in his tone. He of course, wasn't too far off.

"Y-you don't know me, do you Pup?" Sirius asked him, a hand coming to rest on the daring teen's broad shoulder.  
 **"I'm your godfather."**

* * *

 **Graveyard, Little Hangleton, England, Muggle Britain**

 **(June 24th, 1995)**

* * *

 **When Hayden came to,** he found himself in a place far from what he expected upon reaching the Cup. Albus had told him that the Triwizard Cup was a portkey to the entrance of the maze, but this looked nothing at all like Hogwarts. Hayden was in a dark, damn graveyard in the middle of the night.  
He looked to both sides of himself for Viktor Krum, his ally through the tasks, but didn't see a single trace of the tall Bulgarian. That wasn't good…

Hayden was also aware that he was tightly bound against an aged tombstone, and wasn't able to move, and his wand was nowhere to be found.

In the darkness of the night, Hayden could make out the short, pudgy figure of a man moving around the tombstones. The stout man carried a heavy load in his arms, a small shape wrapped in a large bundle of black robes. and judging by the movement within it, a small infant.  
Hayden heard the man muttering something, but he was strangely aloof, as his senses weren't working correctly. His hearing was horribly off track, and for some horrid reason, his magic wasn't responding to his command.

Once the man got closer to Hayden, Hayden was able to pick up some of the man's conversation, and realized who the man was exactly. Peter Pettigrew, Wormtail, the man who really betrayed his parents. A lardy coward. A m- no, child, that deserved no less than a long, stretched out death.  
The fat bastard wouldn't be leaving this place, this night. Hayden would ensure it.

Looking over in Wormtail's direction, he saw the man stop next to a large, bulbous cauldron, and look within it. From what Hayden could guess, the wide cauldron contained some kind of liquid by the sounds coming from it. Some kind of smoke was emitting from it, as the air above it was clouded and slightly purplish. Wormtail placed the infant beside the cauldron, and began to wave a pale wand beneath it, causing fires to sprout out of nowhere, boiling the cauldron. The violet smoke ignited then, and turned black, and began to shoot black flames upwards into the night sky.

It was then, that the 'infant' looked to Wormtail, and lifted it's arms out to him.

"Wormtail! Hurry!" It screeched loudly, causing Wormtail to rush, and uncover the screaming child, throwing the dark robes aside.

The 'child' was absolutely fugly, as it's skin was a dark red, and covered in slimy dark scales. It's facial features were completely flattened, though it was the scarlet glowing eyes that caught Hayden's attention. They were much like his own, though he knew that it was Tom Riddle, and that the man was the reason Hayden even had his odd eyes.

The man had transferred some of his abilities and attributes through their Horcrux link on that fated night in Godric's Hollow.  
He had been the one to reduce the 'dark lord' into the pathetic form he now resided in.

Voldemort had attempted to kill him near the end of his third term of Hogwarts. Suffice to say, Hayden didn't die.

With that, Wormtail lifted Voldemort into the air, before dropping him into the boiling water. The monstrous infant audibly collided with the stone bottom, and caused a wave of brown fog to emit from the cauldron with a loud hiss. Hayden could see that Wormtail was completely disgusted by his 'master', but smartly decided to keep his mouth shut about his unfortunate situation.

He faintly felt his scar ache then, but he was still disconnected in a sense, despite the fact that he hadn't felt pain from it in years. Not since he figured out how to hurt Voldemort back, way more than the reptilian man could ever hope to damage him.

Wormtail averted his gaze then, and began to clumsily recite a chant that he had obviously memorized many times before. Hayden couldn't hear the rat though, and just watched the man speak for several moments, before the grave beneath Hayden broke upwards. At Wormtail's command, a ribcage and fractured skull flew forwards, and splashed straight into the bubbling cauldron. The bones seemed to melt the closer they flew to the water, and caused a cloud of ash and dust to flow out of the cauldron.  
Wormtail then seemed to look regretful, and began to make sobbing noises, which Hayden barely heard. Slowly, the man pulled a long, thin, filthy silver dagger from within his robes, and looked warily at it.

The dagger pulled, Wormtail stepped up to the cauldron once more, and began to sob out another sentence, which went unheard by the teen.  
Hayden was surprised though, when Wormtail reached out his right arm, and swiftly began to cut at it.

Hayden winced, as the hand didn't come off, and Wormtail had to saw away at the bloody muscle and bones within his wrist. The man kept screaming as his skin tore, and he hit a blood vein, pouring heaps of his blood into the cauldron. Wormtail resumed yelling in his agony, as the black, bloody flesh ripped and shredded flew off his limb.

After several minutes of this self-inflicted torture, the ruined hand finally fell off into the inky blackness of the stone tub, causing a large burst of thick smog to erupt into the sky.

It was then, that Wormtail turned his tearful eyes to Hayden, and advanced towards him. When he was less than a step away from him, the plump man froze, and looked towards the cauldron. Hayden did as well, and saw the stone pot began to rumble, throwing the disgusting water in every direction.

The both of them stared and watched in horror, as a disfigured, horrific caricature of Wormtail crawled out of the ruined cauldron. The creatures looked much like if Wormtail had reproduced… with a coyote with mange. It was large and round just like the traitor, but scabby and odd looking, much like depictions of the mythical Chupacabra. It was the most pathetic creature Hayden had every, and would ever see.

The being once known as Voldemort crawled feebly across the cracked, stone pathway of the graveyard, before collapsing against a tombstone. It began to clasp at it's heart then, and began to wheeze loudly, as if in pain. Wormtail seemed stuck between wanting to run to his master's aid, and staying away from the horrific, agonizing monster.

Just as the sun began to rise in the far corner of the sky, Wormymort shook, and went deathly still.  
Hayden winced then, as he felt an extreme pain in his forehead, and a black goo began to leak into his eyes. He was surprised as well, when his senses instantly came back to him, and his magic came back full force. He burst forward from the tombstone, launching Wormtail far into the air. Hayden glided onward, before he stopped next to Wormymort, and felt for the disgusting creature's pulse, only to find nothing.  
After checking his fallen enemy, Hayden stood and began to turn, only to hear a loud and angry hiss coming towards him, very fast.  
Before his eyes, a gigantic basilisk leap at him, but froze when Hayden's gaze stopped on it. Within seconds, the reptilian completely inverted itself, it's form changing into a small, snake-skin mallet. Hayden grinned darkly, and pocketed the piece of self-produced merchandise. He decided to ensure Wormtail's fate then, but spent another moment thinking about Voldemort.  
Hayden wondered aimlessly over the demonic fool's demise, and only after a minute to two, did it come to him.  
 **"The motherfucker had a heart attack?!"**

* * *

 **Hogwarts Castle, Scotland, The United Kingdom**

 **(May 2nd, 1998)**

* * *

 **Hayden Potter looked into the blue eyes** of Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, and socked him across the face.  
The elderly man collapsed then, his back arched against a pile of rubble, a piece of evidence from the destroyed castle that had been the stage for their final confrontation.

A small piece of Hayden felt remorse for the fact he was to kill Dumbledore this night, but the old man was unredeemable, just like Hayden.  
Hayden didn't bother with a wand, or any different type of powerful magic, he just resumed pounding the man's face in.  
Dumbledore looked up at him, remorse and sadness on his face, the skin on it tightened in exhaustion.

"H-Hayd-den… Y-you d-d-don't have to do this… My b-boy… It-t isn't too… late…" Dumbledore stuttered out, his words getting spaced out in between the strikes Hayden rained down upon him.

"It's far too late!" Hayden snarled out, sadness and hatred pouring out in volumes, the force of it drilling into Dumbledore's being. Dumbledore tried to interrupt him from his anger, but Hayden silenced him once again with his anger.

"You went too far! YOU KILLED HER!" Hayden screamed, his assault becoming a full onslaught as his grief overtook him, Dumbledore's bruised and bloody face taking the brunt of Hayden's vengeance.

"M-my boy… I-it wasn't… I… I didn't m-mean to…" Dumbledore muttered, his bloody lips and busted nose (Broken once again after a near century) making it hard to reply. Hayden simply knocked Dumbledore's head against the crumbled stone again, before screaming once more.

"YES YOU DID!"

"I… I'm s-so sorry… " Dumbledore whispered, tears flying from his eyes, as he began to regret everything he had done over his life. Hayden's fists rained down once more on him, causing Dumbledore to cough up more of the coppery scarlet that coated the castle lawn.

"You don't know the DEFINITION OF THAT WORD!" Hayden roared, his hands now wrapping around the senior's throat, his grip tightening. Dumbledore just gulped, and accepted his face.

"H-hayd-den… I-I-I forg-give you…" Dumbledore croaked, before taking one last, elongated breath.  
Dumbledore left this world for another, causing Hayden to have not a single reason to live on.

Hayden left then, heading off into the world, his objective now… to find another.  
With his target gone, Hayden then turned his inner rage against the world.  
 **His War begun.**

* * *

 **Buckingham Palace, London, The United Kingdom**

 **(October 31st, 2026)**

* * *

 **It was done…**

Hayden Potter was utterly alone. He was the last human, the last mammal, as every living creature he could kill, was long gone from this dreadful planet. The planet was filled with silence now, as nothing was left to make a sound. He found it enduring, the silence that he lived in.  
It had taken him years, almost three decades to complete his apocalypse, but he had done it.

With no one to stop him, in his surreal madness, he had crowned himself the King of England. The palace was where he found himself lingering, though he did find himself at a muggle Dentistry at times, though he couldn't for the life of him remember why. Most of his old memories were gone now, blood and violence now crowded his mind, leaving Hayden Potter a minor thought. He hadn't went by the name in years, let alone spoken.

Now… he just felt lonely, and empty within.  
Over the years, he did find himself with moments of sanity. When he did, he found his mind wandering to a simpler time, when his existence meant something. Nights spent hiding within cramped closets of passions, lying atop a hill, staring up at the night sky with someone special.

He couldn't remember who she was of course, but he could remember her warm, brown eyes staring at him with utter affection. He missed whoever the girl was, as it was when he thought of her, when he felt like he knew who he was. When he knew why he had started walking this desolate path of destruction, his only companion being Death itself. In more than a year, **he would find that thought ironic.**

* * *

 **Now,** Hayden just sat in the decorated throne most days, within the most expensive and eldest room of the palace. The colors of the room, scarlet and golden brought up an image then, of a circular room of furniture. He remembered a fireplace as well, and many different sofas, all filled with children enjoying themselves. He saw to his surprise, that girl as well, the one that made him feel… something.  
He shook himself out of this vision, and stared across the long, lavage room. He felt a longing then, and forced an immaculate fireplace to sprout up out of nowhere, lions and griffons carved into the elegant stone of the hearth's walls.  
The vision of nostalgia overwhelmed him then, and a small smile pulled itself to his face, before it faded away.  
Depression and sadness overwhelmed him then, and he decided what he was to do next.  
Twenty-eight years before, he had decided kill every living thing on Earth.  
 **There was still one left…**

* * *

 **Did you guys enjoy this much longer than usual chapter?** I hope so.  
This was the life of Hayden Potter, the horsemen of War, though his afterlife will be next.  
If anyone wondered why there was no mention of Ronald Weasley, it's because Ron was a child of the Order, a male. Let's just say Voldemort was through… In this, I imagine Dumbledore was a person that truly loved Hayden unconditionally, him being the closest thing Dumbledore had to a grandson.

Dumbledore looked over everything wrong with Hayden, trying to help him whenever he could, but he was eventually forced to make the toughest decisions he would make.

I was surprised how enjoyable it was to write a good Dumbledore, especially after having so much experience with an evil one. Quite an experience, this one.

I assume most of you can figure out who 'she' was, and her death was the cataclysm that drove Hayden into madness. Really, Hayden was a twisted individual, and nothing could stop him once his inner demons came to light. He was a person that needed a purpose. She had been one, and revenge had been his next. After killing Dumbledore, he was utterly lost, and decided to unleash his despair, heartache, and rage on the unfortunate world.

Also, Hayden was kind of stupid.

In case you wondered why Voldemort came back without Hayden's blood, the ritual was corrupted, as Wormtail's blood was mixed in. Also, a tiny rant here… Wormtail's knife is described in the book as THIN, how in the name of Lucifer's Pineapples did it slice through muscle and bone in one swing?! I mean, really?! I can't even slice through a Hot Pocket with a Gourmet knife in a single swing, and I'm much stronger than the fat Wormtail could possibly be!

Anyway… I hope you all enjoyed the new chapter. Have a nice morning all of you, and a nice day too. Goodbye for now.

 **-Oscar Unknown**


	24. 4:1 Repentance

**Tales Of Black Britain**

 **4:1**

* * *

 **A.N**

* * *

 **So…** been awhile… Like, a long, long while.  
First things first, real life is demanding. We all have responsibilities in our lives, and sadly that doesn't include great power. While the guys and I would love to sit around in the flat, play video games, and write new chapters all day… we can't do that all the time. Anyway, this chapter is the final chapter of Hayden's short story, and his transformation into the entity known as War. I also am consulting Ryan for this season arc, so he is basically advising me on how to write Lucifer. Just like with the final arc chapters of Tales season one, I will give a preview for the next protagonist.  
That's about it for now.  
Read on.  
 **-Oscar**

 **R &R**

 **Warnings: None really.**

* * *

 **WAR**

 **Chapter End: Repentance**

* * *

 **Undisclosed Bunker, Russia, Eurasia**

 **(Dawn of December, 2028)**

* * *

 **Hayden Potter** wondered what was holding him back.

He looked down at the large, rounded object he sat upon, and that he had come all the way to Russia for. A Soviet thermonuclear bomb, preserved in pristine condition for several decades in a small, hidden bunker deep below Saint Petersburg.

He had found a journal two years before, which led him to the laboratory of a man as mad as himself, who had planned to destroy Italy. Hayden could tell by the withered skeleton in the corner of the bunker, that the man didn't get anywhere near Italy…

Hayden had a reason for acquiring the bomb of course. Insane he may be, but Hayden was truly a theatrical person, as his suicide had to be as full of might as himself. Almost every single method he could use to end it all, he turned down as 'stupid' or 'overdone.'  
Now, he planned to nuke himself to oblivion, though he couldn't bring himself to do it.  
He had journeyed by short and wildly unsafe apparitions from London to Russia over the current year, splinched off four fingers and his left hand, and then blasted his way into this steel pit to get here… only to stop now.  
Whenever his hand would stray towards the detonation switch, his vision would flash a dark brown, and an almost saddening chill would overtake his body. Hayden had no idea what was stopping him exactly, but the feeling became more intense each time he tried. Now, he just sat in a dusty madman's laboratory, debating death.

As an hour passed, Hayden looked around, his eyes roaming over every inch of the aged, old world bunker. He kept up this form of avoidance, taking in all of the details in the room that reminded him faintly of a life long lost. That reminded him of a time when he wasn't the last wiz… wiza… He didn't remember anymore, it had been too long, and his mind had deteriorated far from what it had once been. He didn't even remember his middle or last names, only remembering the first initial of his name, because it was engraved in a strange stick that he couldn't get rid of. The stick was an oddity of sorts, a smooth tan with swirling lines running across it. He had an odd feeling it belonged to him, and he assumed the 'H' on it referred to him. At Least that was what his diseased mind could assume.  
As he sat in deep thought, he neglected to notice a quiet tapping noise. He had been alone for so many years, that he didn't even recognize the sound of footsteps.  
Hayden just toyed with the detonator in a distracted manner, flinching whenever the cold set in.

"You really know how to make a show… You know that?" A warm voice echoed in the cold bunker, the sound of it bouncing around, disturbing the silence that had filled it for so many years. At noise, Hayden jumped to his feet frantically, his eyes disturbingly wild and wide at a sight he never thought he would see again. Another person.

The intruder was a tall man with almost porcelain skin, that gave the impression the man had never stepped outside or under the sun. In the middle of the stranger's face, two bronzed orbs rested in sockets, dully reflecting what they saw. Night-black hair covered the man's head, a matching goatee forming at the chin, though the hairs seemed to move in a frightening manner.  
The man wore a men's suit, that was a pure-silver that stood out easily in the dark lighting of the bunker.

"W-who a-are you?! I… I killed…. e-every… one! H-how?!" Hayden screamed out, his voice hoarse after not talking for several years, the sound coming out dry and cracking. He quickly backed away from the man, folding himself up in the nearest corner, much like a small child. The stranger just walked towards him, and bent down to be at face level with him.

"I'm… someone interested in you. You see Hayden, you are INTERESTING, and NEW! I get bored very easily, you wouldn't believe it really. You see, I need something to keep me entertained, or 'things' happen. I mean, the last time I did, you humans got the Bubonic plague… " The man spoke, his face morphing back and forth from grim to disturbingly amused every so often. Hayden didn't pay too much attention to what the man was saying, as he was frankly scared out of his mind. The man stopped then, and took a single look at Hayden's terrified face. The man straightened up then, and walked backward a step.

"I see this is still hard on you, so why don't I introduce myself?" The man asked him, a razor-sharp grin growing on his face. Hayden shook in fear when the man extended his hand out to him, the concept of hand-shaking long gone from his mind.  
 **"My name is Lucifer… I'm the Devil."**

* * *

 **"Y-you want me to kill everyone? Again... to entertain you…?"** Hayden asked in a lost, but slightly angry tone as Lucifer once again explained the role he would play. The two were now seated together atop the bomb, as Lucifer re-introduced him to warm pumpkin juice, and they discussed the 'future' or in a sense… past.

Hayden would act as Lucifer's 'jester', providing entertainment for the entity, by going back in time repeatedly, and killing everyone on Earth each time. All the while, Lucifer and Hell's denizens would be watching him every step of the way. He would essentially be on a reality television show, though he didn't even know what one was. The idea that he would have to endure everything again, and he would be watched every single second, every single day by endless creatures. It unnerved him, but he didn't have much of a choice really. What do you do with a broken man, besides use him to break others…?

"Exactly Mister Potter, I want you to go back as many times as possible, and let loose. Get creative, and unleash your anger on all of those who ruined your life…. I would think revenge on a certain old man would be good enough…" Lucifer explained, leaving the last part vague, as he assumed Hayden would remember the man that destroyed any semblance of a life he had. Unfortunately, Hayden didn't remember a thing.

"W-what? Who are you talking about…?" Hayden muttered in a haze, his mind reeling in an attempt to understand what the man was talking about, but nothing came to him. His mind was an utterly blank, and soggy canvas, not a single painted memory would stay with him. The only things he remembered, were his journey to his nuclear savior, and his encounter with his demonic visitor.

"Albus Dumbledore, the man who killed your love… You don't remember?" Lucifer said in surprise, his eyebrows shooting up at the revelation, as while he could watch Hayden's progress over the years, he couldn't see his mind. He had no idea of how damaged Hayden truly was…

"What are you talking about?" Hayden asked, his eyebrows shifting as his face changed to that of confusion. To him, Lucifer wasn't making a inch of sense.

Lucifer both grinned and groaned then, as he was slightly overjoyed at this. The devil so wanted to say this, but never got the chance before. He grinned at Hayden, and focused on a deep, throaty, Scottish accent.

 **"You're a wizard Hayden!"**

* * *

 **"So… this is Hell?"** Hayden asked upon stepping into the horrifically strange landscape of Hell, marveling at the odd differences from the world he knew so well. He noted the environmental differences, and the annoying perfection that the Underworld's people seemed to ooze out.

"Yep! Though Elohim gave it the name, it's just kind of stuck over time. I originally wanted to call the place Weird Town, but it never caught on… " Lucifer exclaimed, his emotions changing from joyful to sad in seconds. It both amused and scared Hayden whenever Lucifer would change like that, as the man would be happy and helpful, and then randomly he would become beyond angry and aggressive. The Devil had problems.

"Weird Town…?" Hayden asked in return, understanding that only Lucifer could pick a name like that. He had already figured out Lucifer's personality, despite only knowing the Devil for less than a day.

"Nice name isn't it? Too bad those Christians keep calling the place Hell… makes all the spirits afraid, then when I torture them I can't surprise them! It takes all the fun out of it!" Lucifer screamed, his arms flailing around to express his frustration. He only stopped however, when they stopped before a tall, multi storey building. The most notable detail on it, was a large neon sign reading 'The Otherworldly Hotel' with a cartoon demon stretched out atop it, it's tail curled up maliciously.

"What's this place?" Hayden asked his deathly companion, as they looked forward at the strange building. Lucifer however, just wrapped an arm around Hayden's shoulders, and the other in the arm.

 **"Welcome to your new home Hayden."**

* * *

 **(Timestand Tower, Hell)**

* * *

 **"Your destination is 1990."** Lucifer said, as he led Hayden into the large, strange building known as the Timestand Tower. Lucifer explained the process Hayden would go through, and the specifics. Hayden's body would be torn apart completely, and his consciousness would be shot into the past, his mind clawing itself into his past self and asserting itself. The fact that he would basically be murdering his past self, and becoming him didn't bother him much. The fact he would have to kill so many people again wasn't much of a bother either, as most of the people on his list he didn't remember.

"Your first targets are the Dursleys. You are then to find your way to Diagon Alley, I know you're smart enough to achieve this. I can get you a good wand once you're there, but after you get to Diagon, you're on your own!" Lucifer exclaimed, giving the younger man a pat on the back. Hayden just glared at him in protest, but was interrupted when an impossibly elderly man walked into the chamber, slowly stopping in front of them.

"Really my lord? Another one? So soon…?" Aramar the Temporal guard of Hell asked Lucifer, as the old man looked over Hayden, almost scrutinizing him. Hayden just sneered at him, while the man looked content then, and turned his questioning gaze over to the demonic overlord beside them.

"He's The End isn't he?" Aramar asked in some sense of wiseness, leaving Hayden confused and Lucifer surprised. Lucifer in response coughed, and turned to Hayden with a hardened look.

"I've got something to tell you, but it can wait… " Lucifer said, before turning to Aramar again and nodding slightly in his direction. "He's going to July 31st, 1990"

Aramar nodded at him, and turned his gaze to the ceiling of the chamber. Hayden followed his view, and noticed what appeared to be a gigantic hourglass suspended far above them. Aramar aimed an arm at the glass and with the motion, black sand phased through it and fell downward through the air. Before Hayden could process anything, he was absorbed by the mysterious sands.  
While he wondered what the old man had meant about him being an End, he decided to ask Lucifer once he returned.  
He would have to wait twenty-seven years to get that answer… And he would be pissed…

"Hello Hayden! Good job on c-" Lucifer said joyfully as he welcomed back the man he had sent out to 'War' for roughly thirty years, while Lucifer and the denizens had watched the bloodbath with earnest. Hell's happiness ratings had actually increased among the 'valued' corrupt citizens and Hell's monsters as well.

Lucifer had even been asked by his old friend Azael to discover a way to stream 'Old Harry's Game' to Heaven, right under Elohim's big nose. It was pretty successful as well, at least from how much Elohim screamed at him after it premiered. Now Lucifer had arrived at the Timestand Tower more after more than two decades, of which Hell was barely affected by, to welcome home the corrupted 'Harry.'

To his surprise however, the 'television star' slugged him right across the face, breaking a few of his pearly-white teeth. Lucifer reared back then, his eyes showing shock for a split second, before a feral grin formed on his face. In a single moment, the handsome form of Lucifer melted away, a horrific scarlet demonic form taking it's place.

Before Hayden could even think of reacting, Lucifer had already bashed a now, gigantic fist at him. With an almost cartoony sound effect, Hayden was launched through the air, his body impacting against a thorny wall of rock that appeared out of literally nowhere far in the distance.  
Within seconds after that, Lucifer shifted his form once more, and stood there as a short, bespectacled teen boy. Wild black hair stood on the end of Lucifer's new head, which stood out against a new shocking pair of emerald eyes.

Lucifer twiddled his thumbs then, and just waited in patience as Hayden eventually made his slow way back to the spot. The angry warrior just groaned, and raised an eyebrow at Lucifer's form in slight curiosity.

"I believe we're overdue for a chat Hayden, come… I have a lot to explain, and I have some people I would like you to meet." Lucifer said in a cryptic tone as he started walking off into the distance, the destination being a small, renaissance-era castle.  
As Hayden didn't have a single choice otherwise, he growled out his frustration and followed in silence.  
 **The Third Horsemen had found his fellows.**

* * *

 **The Council of the Horsemen, Hell**

* * *

 **Hayden was confused,** and that angered him beyond belief. He was standing face to face with two other men, that looked almost exactly like him. One of the two was introduced as Apollyon, and referred to as the 'Horsemen of Death' by Lucifer and the man himself. Lucifer introduced the other, shorter man as Henry, or simply 'Pestilence.' Pestilence however, reminded Hayden much too much of a man that annoyed him fiercely in both of his timelines. Severus Snape, which was this man's father… Hayden hated Pestilence, even though they had only met then.

With introductions done, Lucifer began telling a long story of many different versions of Hayden, all from different worlds. Hayden learned to his anger that he was 'The End,' the worst version of himself in existence, and that he was just a copy of a man named 'Harry.'

Now, after being forced into meeting these men that claimed to be him, and sitting through the long story, Lucifer was ASKING him to join his little group. Hayden realized as well, that Lucifer had been training and testing him before.

 **Lucifer wanted him to become War itself.**

* * *

 **4:1**

 **PESTILENCE**

* * *

 **Henry Benedict Prince** didn't know what to expect when a man that could have only been the Devil, offered him a spot on the Devil's group of killers. Killers that would basically be the leaders of Hell beneath the Devil, and correct mistakes in Space, Time, and Reality. It was an interesting offer to be sure, but now was slightly regretting it.  
He was working in a dark castle, he looked like sickness itself, Death wasn't a good conversationalist, and War was an idiot.  
He was sure that there would be another one of them, they weren't complete.

 **The verse does mention four…**

* * *

 **Did you enjoy?** Let me know.  
Once again, I'm terribly sorry for not updating sooner, but life's been rough. Also, I've been faced with some writer's block. (Also sorry about the short chapter) Some minor news, we will try to write more, and Darin and I are facing a question about Peverell Edition. Should we re-upload the old chapters, so new readers could reach the redone chapters and what came next originally (And replace them later, chapter after chapter) or just keep the story like it is, and upload redone chapters when they're done?  
Anyway, have a good morning everyone.  
Goodbye for now.  
 **-Oscar**


End file.
